


Eclipse.

by theweakestthing



Category: K (Anime)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-29
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-03-20 05:13:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3638073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theweakestthing/pseuds/theweakestthing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The sun and the moon, as different as night and day.<br/>The sun didn’t understand why the moon couldn’t stand it,wilting under the heat. And the moon thought the other would never understand, turned the sun’s light to darkness and left the other there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The light from the window woke Yata, it always took him a moment, just moment, to remember that he didn’t have bunk beds anymore, that he lived in a completely different apartment, that he was alone there.

He rolled toward the warmth of the morning light, stretched under the sheets. Back bent, arms reaching out and toes curled. He rose slowly, rubbing his eyes with his knuckle.

Years, every time Yata saw a calendar he was reminded of the distance between them. The date was permanently etched into his memory, heck he even remember the weather forecast. 

He was sick of it, sick of seeing it everywhere, sick of feeling an ache deep dry and raw.

Yata padded over to the window, leaned his head against the glass.

He knew he wasn’t the smartest but he wasn’t exactly dumb, he knew there was more to Saru’s betrayal than what the other had said in that alleyway. Knew there was more to everything than the scraps that Saru had given him, knew that there was a vast expanse of unexplored land under that pale skin.

Years and Yata was at the end of his rope, hope was his only company in the darkness and it spoke its doubts about Saru’s hatred deep into the night.

The sun broke over the building in front of his, shining down on him. He wished he could shed the demon that clung to his ankles and reared its head whenever he saw Saru. And the way Saru always had his back when they were pitted against a strain or some other kind of scumbag, it made hope crawl into his heart. After all the times that Saru had flippantly shrugged him off after one of those encounters, it had hope whispering in his ear again.

He knew Saru better than to believe those words, maybe.

Doubt gripped him just as viscously as everything else. Maybe Saru really meant those words, maybe Saru really did hate him, maybe Saru really did want him dead and wanted to do it himself and maybe their friendship had never meant anything to the other.

Thinking about Saru always sent him for a turn and Yata really hated thinking like that, really hated the introspective crap that had him second, third and fourth guessing himself.

He brewed himself a coffee, strong and sweet, and sat at the shitty little table he’d got second-hand from a friend. The day looked bright and full of promise, Yata hope that he wouldn’t see Saru and prayed for the contrary in the same turn.

-

The day was long and hot, sun riding high in the sky. The feel of it on his skin made Yata think of middle school and the way that Saru would wilt in the heat, bending down toward the ground like a flower. The thought of made him chuckle and then he stopped, Saru had retroactively poisoned every good memory Yata had of the other. A large chunk of his life was sullied, rotten to the core.

He shook it off and continued on down the street, wheels on concrete, the noise was satisfying and loud enough to drown out all the stupid hurtful thoughts that pulled Yata’s attention.

They were living separate lives and if anyone should be hung up it should be Saru, not him. He had nothing to feel guilty about, he had nothing to worry about, he did nothing but wrong.

He pushed through the doors into the bar, it felt half empty without Totsuka and Mikoto-san but that didn’t stop it from still feeling like home. That didn’t stop him from feeling like the people that filled it were his family, his brothers.

Anna was sat on the bench that Mikoto used to take up, fingers leafing through a book delicately. Kusanagi was wiping down the bar, cigarette caught between his lips. Chitose was painfully trying to chat up some girl in the corner and the rest of the guys were lent against the bar watching and laughing as it seemed to be going south.

Homra was always full of life and that put Yata’s mind at ease, quiet wasn’t good for him, it meant he could hear his thoughts and that really wasn’t such a great thing for him. Especially considering the time of year, if the date on his PDA was right and it should be.

He didn’t want to think about it and so he didn’t, instead he thrust himself into the throng of guys huddled around the bar.

-

There was a photograph, one remaining photograph, the only physical reminder Yata had that there had ever been anything between him and Saru. A stupid photograph of a day he could hardly remember, it haunted him and he couldn’t bear to throw it out.

Back in middle school there had been a wood behind the buildings, on a day like that day they’d jumped over the fence during lunch and had found a small clearing. Yata had an old disposable camera that he’d found in the house at the time, he’d taken pictures of all sorts of things, now that he thought of it he hadn’t kept any of those. They had laid in the grass and the sun was beating down upon them and really it had been such a perfect photo opportunity. He held Saru by the cheek so that the other wouldn’t move, held the camera above them and took the photo.

It was stupid, really.

Saru had hated it, even threatened to destroy the camera, but in the photo the other hadn’t looked irritated. Saru didn’t even have that usual look of indifference on, but there was something almost serene in that visage. A small glimpse of happiness on that face, it was one of the very few times that Yata had spied it and he’d always cherished it.

He kept it under his mattress, it was scuffed and creased at the corners.

It was getting late.

-

The light from his laptop dimly illuminated Fushimi’s tired face, it was long into the night and he was still going over reports and doing data entry. He wasn’t nearly tired enough to fall asleep as soon as he hit the mattress though and so he continued to do work that really could have waited for the next day.

And no one paid him any mind, hard working and dangerously dancing on the sharp edge of anti-social. The other’s really did try and sometimes he caved, but he preferred to be alone. And that was an irritating thought because it led his mind to all sorts of places, it’d been what he’d thought when he first met Misaki. He didn’t need the other’s help or company, but somehow it’d all happened.

Somehow Misaki had gotten under his skin and stayed there like a terrible rash, itched like the ruined skin over his heart. The other became a permanent enough of a part of his life that Fushimi could tangibly feel the space that the other had left. A Misaki shaped hole that he wasn’t going to fill, he’d leave that empty space and that dull ache as a reminder of what happened when he grew attached to things.

That space besides him was cavernous at times, putting his life in danger. He’d be in a bind to turn for aide where it wasn’t, turn to bright blinding gaze where there was deep gaping nothingness. Leaning over his bunk so far he’d almost fall out, but he continued to refuse a roommate.

The past was a cautionary tale and Fushimi was determined to learn from his mistakes, unlike a certain idiot that he knew who continued to look up at him with those hopeful eyes.

He leaned back in the desk chair, the room untouched by the light from his laptop seemed like oblivion to his unadjusted eyes. The tendrils of sleep tried to pull down his eyelids down and he supposed it was about time that he got ready for bed.

Traipsing through the empty halls of the vast sprawling buildings of Scepter 4, jacket slung over his shoulder, the place seemed lonely under the light of the moon.

-

He had never been enamoured with his reflection, he knew he wasn’t unattractive but that sort of thing never really entered his mind. All of that was overshadowed by his hunger for power and his thirsty ego, or so he told himself.

There were countries inside him that he didn’t dare explore, artefacts that he would never examine. The boy was an enigma onto himself, things hidden inside a puzzle box that even he didn’t know the code for.

Everyone must have that side of themselves, he thought, everyone hides things from themselves. Probably not Misaki though, Misaki was the epitome of innocence and purity in specific ways.

If that boy was capable of getting under people’s skin and making a home there then Misaki didn’t know it himself, wasn’t aware of himself or the things he did to other people. Misaki was blind and blushing to the world of adults, the other’s naivety could tower above Fushimi and he found it delightful, found those red stained cheeks delectable.

He spat toothpaste into the sink when he wanted to spit blood instead.

What he wanted was the other’s easy rage, hatred was glorious and burning from Misaki’s flames and it was a sick kind of ecstasy. Hatred was safe, eyes dark with anger on him and it was all the attention he needed, or so he’d tell himself.

And he shut those thoughts down, staring hard at himself in the mirror. Florescent bulbs buzzing above him. They wouldn’t lead him anywhere good, only a fruitless longing beat in his heart and he scratched the skin above it as punishment for its wistfulness.

There was nothing there, he told himself, he’d burnt it all, there was nothing left to gain for you reap what you sew and he’d sewed a thick black hatred that he had grown within Misaki, there was nothing to reap.

-

His self image was built on lies, the foundation a heavy deceit that would not be easily brought down. Fushimi was a fortress, a boy in a tall tower without long flowing hair for someone to grasp to pull their way up, as if he’d let them anyway.

Skin almost translucent in the low light, he lied on his bunk and reached his hand toward the sky.

He’d never show the true colours of his heart, but he was sure that there’d never be anyone worth showing them to.

There had been times though, times in the twilight where he could hear Misaki breathe steady in the darkness and he’d whisper things he wanted to take back now despite the other never hearing them. From the top bunk he’d released words like smoke, the expulsion lightened his lungs.

Despite what Fushimi thought of himself and what he often liked to believe, he was human and painfully just like everyone else. There were things he cherished and things he regretted, things he wanted to say, things he wanted to show, but he never would.

He would keep his heart locked up tight, it was a sick treacherous thing and Fushimi despised it most of the time. It never listened to him, paid him no mind and felt whatever it wanted to feel despite his pleas.

Skin prickling with unwanted memories, he let his hand fall to the mattress as he closed his eyes. He shut them tight, as though he could will himself asleep, as though he could bury several years of his life. As though he was only himself when he was alone when that was only partially true, fire often danced behind his eyelids and it was difficult to grit his teeth and pretend like he could go on like that for the rest of his life.

_

Another bright blistering day and it was the day, Yata wanted to stay in bed, he wanted to run, he wanted to burn the whole of Scepter 4 to the ground. Not that any of that would make any difference.

He rolled onto his back, arms spread out at his sides, he squinted out the window. He wouldn’t let this bullshit ruin another perfectly fine day, there were a lot of better things he had to do than feel sorry for himself.

Kicking the sheets off of himself, slinking toward the floor to pull clothes from the drawer by his bed. He vowed that that day would be the first of many great days without that fuck, he’d rid himself of the hope, doubt and longing that clung to him. Wash it off in the shower, the ache would stay but that was fine, it’d be more like Saru had died and some imposter had taken the other’s place.

There was a stranger walking around with Saru’s face, he told himself.

Water rushing down, flowing off of his body and taking the unhealthy crap with it.

-

The world rushed by and music filled his ears, speed was a kind of high for Yata. Skateboard rattling as he rode past streets, cutting through alleyways and the back of a small shopping district.

Air fresh against his cheeks, he followed the river, kept it on his right and stopped to skip a song. Something slow and wistful that he didn’t have time for that day. He walked down onto the grass of the riverbank and sat there for a while, watching the sun light flitter across the water’s surface.

It was a nice day, he mused leaning back on his elbows and staring up at the sky as a crow flew by. He heard a train rattle past on the other side of the river over the music, felt the sun on his skin.

It was the perfect day for a car crash, wheels screeching and horn blearing. Yata quickly got to his feet and turned back to the road, one car sat with a wheel hanging over the edge of the riverbank. The driver opened their door in a hurry and said something that he couldn’t hear, face marred with worry. Yata made his way up the small hill to see what the commotion was about.

There was someone laying lifeless on the ground, someone wearing a blue jacket and Yata selfishly hoped it was someone else. Some nameless and faceless member of Scepter 4 that he didn’t know, but of course it wasn’t. It was just Yata’s luck that it was Saru lying boneless against the asphalt.

He swallowed down every choking and terrifying thought that crept up his throat, painful memories threatened to swallow his vision. He tried to stay logical, tried to stay calm and collected.

Yata pushed past the small crowd that had gathered, announcing that he knew Saru and asked if anyone had called the emergency services and they had. His hand shook as he tried to call Kusanagi-san.

"Yata-kun?" Kusanagi’s cool voice came out from the speakers.

"K-kusanagi-san," Yata said, voice wavering, "something’s happened." He didn’t want to get closer to Saru, but he thought that he probably should.

"What’s wrong?" Kusanagi’s tone drifted to caution.

"Um, Sa-Fushimi got hit by a car and of course I don’t have any of the blues’ numbers but I thought you might because of that woman," the words rushed out of Yata along with his breath.

"Okay, I’ll call Seri and let her know, is an ambulance on the way?" Kusanagi said calmly, but it did nothing to quell the harsh beating of Yata’s heart.

"Ye-ah," he hiccupped, blinking the water from his eyes.

"I’ll call you again soon, Yata-kun."

"Yeah," Yata was reluctant because he’d no longer have anything to busy himself with, but the line went dead.

His eyes trailed down to Saru, he tried to itemise his analysis of the other’s injuries but he just couldn’t. He dropped to his knees besides Saru’s body, brought his hand to the other’s bleeding head. Wiped the slick fluid away from Saru’s brow, there was something nasty and pale white sticking out from Saru’s torn sleeve. The other’s legs were sprawled out awkwardly and there was blood spider webbing across the front of Saru’s dress shirt, he went numb.

"S-saru," Yata tried, nothing happened.

"Saru please," he begged shaking the other lightly, it was no use though.

-

The waiting room was cold and the way that various members of Scepter 4 were looking at him got on his nerves, he would have knocked their block off if he wouldn’t get kicked out for it.

Awashima came over and stood in front of the small group of people almost entirely clad in blue besides himself, she cleared her throat and Yata lifted his head in her direction.

"Fushimi-kun is going to be fine," she announced, "he has a severe concussion, a few broken ribs and a broken arm, we need to let him rest. The doctor says he’ll probably be up to having visitors in the next few days, you’re all ordered to return to your duties," she said with finality, Yata watched the blues file out of the room.

He sat there nose filling with the stench of bleach and he wondered just how many people had bled or whatever else in that room, he felt eyes heavy on him. Yata lifted his gaze to find Awashima still stood in the middle of the room, staring flatly at him.

"That applies to you too," she said pointedly, "we appreciate everything you’ve done for Fushimi-kun and we will inform you when he is allowed visitors," her tone was clipped and her voice was tight. It sounded very much like someone had told her to be democratic with him and he supposed that it must have been Kusanagi-san.

"Right," Yata managed, he knew that spite wouldn’t get him any points.

He numbly got to his feet and muttered a quiet thanks as he left the room.

-

Blinking up at the ceiling, the room was far too bright. Fushimi winced and tried to sit up, suddenly everything ached and his head spun so fast that it made his stomach lurch. He sunk back against the bed, breathing heavily.

Right, a car had hit him.

His injuries were apparent from the feel of bandages and the swimming of his head. It was pretty serious but he’d survive, like always. Not that being forced to stay in bed for weeks on end wouldn’t be irritating, he could already hear Awashima chastising him.

He turned his head to the side and saw the night time cityscape, just as bright as always but the lights stuck in his eyes. It stung and so he closed them.

-

"Ah, sleeping beauty has awoken from her slumber," just because the man was his king didn’t mean that Fushimi never found Munakata irritating.

Since the door had opened he’d pretended to be asleep, but his king was smarter than that and saw straight through him. He cracked an eye open and levelled a glare at the other.

That easy small smile was on him, it was a little on the smug side.

"What?" Fushimi croaked.

"Nothing," Munakata said and it was most certainly not nothing. Fushimi clicked his tongue.

"What time is it?" He wondered aloud, making to sit up slowly.

"eight pm," Munakata returned, the other’s deep and rumbling tone was sending Fushimi to sleep.

-

"Oh, come on," a familiar voice roused Fushimi from his slumber, "it’s been three days."

Why, was the first thing that came to mind, why on earth would Misaki be yelling outside his hospital room. And of course he couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation, no matter the way he strained inching toward the edge of the bed.

"I know he woke up, why are you lying to me?"

Fushimi clicked his tongue, really how childish.

He heard the door open slowly and dropped back against the bed, pretending to sleep.

And then who was being childish?

"Just ten minutes okay and don’t do this again or you won’t be allowed to see him," it sounded like a nurse, reprimanding Misaki.

"Okay, thank you," Misaki said softly before closing the door. Fushimi heard the other’s footsteps as Misaki approached his bed. "I know you’re not asleep scumbag."

Fushimi opened his eyes and shrugged.

"How could I sleep with you hollering out there," he muttered.

"Shut up," Misaki replied easily, plopping down on the seat that Munakata had been in the last time he was awake.

"It’s real sweet of you though, Misaki," he smirked as he spoke, "I never knew you cared."

"Liar," there was an edge to that voice, it was a little too sharp and Fushimi winced at the sound of it. Misaki leaned back in the chair, knees brought up to his chest.

"I guess you are a little obvious, but that’s part of your virgin charm," the smirk grew a little wider, but forcing it out made his head thump.

"Whatever," Misaki shrugged, not meeting Fushimi’s eyes. He dropped the smirk and stared flatly at the other.

"Then to what do I owe the pleasure of your presence to?" He ditched humour for indifference peppered with resent.

"It’s fucking typical," Misaki laughed humourlessly to himself. "You don’t know do you? I bet those blues didn’t tell you a goddamned thing," Misaki’s lips curled as he spoke.

"What are you babbling about?" Fushimi said sharply.

"I’m the one that was there, I’m the one that saw you all bent and broken on the floor, I called Kusanagi-san and he told your blues," Misaki said, staring out the window. Night sprawled across the sky.

"Well, aren’t you my knight in shining armour," Fushimi said condescendingly.

"Fuck you Saru," Misaki spat. "You have no idea what it’s like, I had no idea what state you were in," he took a shuddering breath, "you could have died for all I knew and I-I." Misaki rubbed his face with the back of his arm, grimacing as he swallowed. "Once is enough, Saru," he said after a long moment, finally looking at the other.

Fushimi had nothing to say and wasn’t sure what Misaki was talking about but he caught the jist of it, he clicked his tongue and scowled at the other.

"Are seriously blaming me for getting hit by a car?" He asked with an arched brow.

"N-no, I’m just telling you how I feel," Misaki said, brows furrowed.

"Right, thanks," he said like spitting acid, Misaki sighed heavily.

"Aren’t you tired?" Misaki said, "aren’t you sick of fighting because I am and I wanna try again," voice tentative as he spoke. "I don’t want us to be enemies it’s impossible pretending that I hate you because I don’t Saru, I really don’t, I know I should after everything you’ve put me through but I just can’t," he shrugged, "I want to try being friends again."

"Isn’t that just your pride talking, Misaki?" Fushimi said, Misaki had a hero complex, a saviour complex and liked to believe that he could fix everything with the power of friendship. Heh, if that was true then they wouldn’t have even met, he thought.

"Fuck pride, I don’t care, it isn’t about that bravado crap anymore Saru, it never was," Misaki said with that easy anger but there it seemed like a dying ember.

"People falling around you like flies, Misaki, and now you’re trying to hold onto whatever you can just so you won’t be alone, heh, I won’t be anyone’s second choice," mouth curling viscously, hating the way that Misaki came so easily.

"That isn’t it," Misaki ground out, eyes aflame, it was obviously difficult for him to hold back that steaming anger but he did. "Would you just shut the fuck up and listen to me for once, Saru, just listen to me," it was an order instead of a plea, as if the other would even consider bowing to someone else’s whim.

"What is it then because you’re being quite inarticulate,” Fushimi said sharply.

Misaki took a deep breath before he began.

"When I saw you there, I was thinking that that could have been it and the last thing we would have said to each other was some crap that neither of us meant," he took a shuddering breath before continuing. "And it would have been so fucking stupid because all I wanted to do was wake you up and say that I never meant any of it, you just know how to rub me up the wrong way," he laughed dryly, hands clenched around his ankles.

"You know, Misaki, when you assume you make an ass out of you and me," Fushimi tilted his head, deflection just one of the many linguistic talents he held over Misaki, but in the art of conversation Misaki was blind and Fushimi was the one eyed king.

"Pfft, bullshit," Misaki said without a hint of doubt.

The auburn haired boy was endlessly irritating when he wielded conviction and most especially when the brat was right.

"Think what you like Misaki," Fushimi waved the other off with his mostly uninjured arm. Misaki checked his watch and seemed displeased.

"I will and I will be back, nothing that comes from that shitty mouth of yours is going to stop me, not this time," Misaki said as he rose from the chair and that was his goodbye.

Fushimi slumped back against the bed as the door closed behind Misaki, his head was pounding. Misaki was a headache. And there the boy was again, offering salvation for the billionth time despite everything he’d done for the other. It was annoying, self deception was a hard task when the evidence was clear on the monitors. His body always betrayed him, blunt nails reaching for that marred skin from the way Misaki got under his skin.

There was no use getting hopeful over something so trivial, he told himself, Misaki would grow bored with him again and then he’d be alone again. He sighed closing his eyes, encasing his heart in ice was the only way to protect himself from that familiar kind of pain.

-

Yata sat in the bar, tapping his fingers against the counter top. It was a hazy day and almost everyone else was out. Kusanagi-san was staring him down on the other side of the bar, watching the pensive look on Yata’s face.

"Why don’t you go out with the other’s or take Anna out?" Kusanagi offered, eye twitching every time Yata’s nails hit the expensive wood of his precious bar.

Yata looked over his shoulder at Anna, she seemed to be sweltering in the shade.

"I’m quite fine where I am," she said to both of them.

Yata shrugged turning back to the bar, watching Kusanagi fill a glass with ice.

"You need to do something, you’re making the bar gloomy," Kusanagi said pointedly waving the glass in Yata’s direction.

"What though? I don’t have work today, they won’t let me go back yet, there’s nothing to do here and the rest of the guys didn’t want me to go with them because I’d ruin the mood," Yata pouted, he caught his reflection in the mirror behind the bar. He looked childish, even younger than he usually did.

He was strong and he was brave but Saru had a way of making him feel like he was back at middle school without any friends and turning to the other with guilt swirling thickly in his stomach. He felt powerless against the other’s impersonation of a brick wall, Yata grit his teeth Saru was as stubborn as they came.

"I don’t know, go for a walk, ride your skateboard, go to an arcade, just something other than scarring my bar and scaring off customers," Kusanagi flipped, vein pulsing in his forehead as he slapped Yata’s hand away from the bar.

-

The days were long and Yata had to wait, he was an impatient boy and so he was restless twitching in his apartment. Laying flat out on his couch, eyes trailing the cracks that spider webbed across the ceiling. Fingers dancing in the air, he’d been so stupid.

He had sounded so stupid that night.

Yata had overheard Kusanagi on the phone to Awashima, had heard that Saru was awake and that was all he heard. And he was out of the bar and down the road, the number of Saru’s room was at the front of his mind, somehow, from one visit he’d already memorised the journey. Heart hammering against the his chest, he’d argue with the nurse all night if it meant he got to see Saru awake. And he did, he had spilled some of his guts and, as always, Saru gave him nothing in return.

The sun was glaring down on him and he covered his eyes, arms bent over his face.

In retrospect, it was dumb and useless because Yata yearned for Saru to give him something. He groaned, even if he slammed himself against Saru’s indifference for the rest of his life he doubted that he’d get anything at all satisfactory out of the other.

Then again, they used to live together, they used to be best friends and it used to be them against the world. Used was the operative word and that thought cut deep.

There was such a distance between them that it terrified Yata, but he’d throw himself over that gap. He had so much regret all ready, he doubted that he could handle anymore. And if that regret was everything between him and Saru then he was sure that would pull him down into a deep darkness he wouldn’t know how to get out of.

"Fuck it," he ground out, "no more regrets."

-

It was a few more days before someone called Yata to notify him that Saru was properly awake and allowed visitors, the times were too short but then again he didn’t know how long he could stand being in Saru’s presence before his hands itched with the need to strangle the other.

He opened the hospital room door to find no one beside Saru as the other sat fiddling with his PDA, as Yata approached the other did not raise their head. Yata didn’t know what to say or do as he sat there watching the display of lights dance in the reflection of Saru’s glasses, he decided to wait for the silence to become unbearable before speaking. A kind of battle of the wills as he knew that the other would grow tired and irritated with the drawn out nothingness too.

The silence didn’t turn awkward, however, it was kind of nice, Yata thought. He guessed that maybe Saru was just doing that because the other couldn’t exactly go anywhere and it was useless to tell Yata to leave, but it was still comfortable, like when they used to skip class in middle school.

With the sun warm against his back, Yata really could have fallen asleep, watching Saru’s fingers move rhythmically over the PDA. There was so much that he wanted to say and so much that he wanted to ask, but he knew it’d get him nowhere. Heck, just this was an achievement in and of itself, it was a step forward from the way that they weren’t at each other’s throats.

"How long will this last?" Saru said and Yata almost missed it from the way the other hadn’t seemed to have moved at all. The answer came easily and he smiled, a smile secret from the way that Saru refused to look at him.

"Forever if you let it."

Saru’s face turned sour, but Yata was trying to learn not to read anything in the way the other reacted toward him. It was difficult though, ignoring those words in favour of reading Saru’s actions, which was quite the task for Yata, but the way that Saru didn’t say anymore kept that smile on his face.

-

A full week since Fushimi was allowed visitors and Misaki had been there almost every day, silently glowing off to his right side. There was hardly a word said between them, silence so warm he was sweltering or just sweating profusely from trying to stay up when he really should have been resting. And that was something that Fushimi held onto, the fact that Misaki hadn’t nagged him half to death about taking care of himself but then again he could just be getting off lightly for managing to survive and Misaki’s relief.

It was a viscous cycle going round and around in Fushimi’s head, Misaki cared or Misaki didn’t care or Misaki only thought he cared. Ripping the petals off of a daisy would have been more productive.

"You’re hair’s getting long," Misaki said and Fushimi hummed in affirmation. "Sort of looks like it did in middle school," Misaki mused, that gaze heavy on his skin.

"Ugh," he grimaced touching his head, it still ached but it was mostly healed, his ribs and arm would take far longer. "We were really lame back then," he said, remembering the way that they used to carry on.

"Speak for yourself, I’ve always been cool," Misaki said with that dumb conviction.

"You still can’t speak to girls," Fushimi said easily, it was low hanging fruit after all.

"I spoke to that nurse," Misaki returned.

"She’s old enough to be your mother," he raised his brows and tipped his head toward the other.

"What about that cold hearted woman?" Misaki said.

"Hmm," Fushimi said considering it before smirking, "maybe it’s just girls younger than you."

"Oh fuck off Saru," Misaki barked. 

"That’s not exactly cool is it, Misaki?" Fushimi was enjoying himself.

-

It became routine, Misaki would visit him and they’d volley a poorly constructed conversation between them. The easy banter and insults that were not really cutting, Fushimi sank into it like putting on a winter coat after a particularly long summer.

Fushimi supposed if that was all Misaki wanted, no Homra, no questions and no demands of him then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe there was something to hold onto in this small friendship.

"Ya know, I kept that picture," Misaki said, words like weights bringing Fushimi down.

If there was no meaning to anything then there was no danger, but there Misaki was ruining everything again by confessing things that he just wanted to stay buried.

"What picture?" He asked, voice indifferent.

"The one I took, the only photograph of you that I’ve ever had," Misaki said, eyes heavy on him.

"Why?"

"If I don’t get to ask questions then you don’t either," Misaki said, almost smiling. Fushimi clicked his tongue.

"Annoying."

"Takes one to know one," Misaki poked his tongue out at the other.

Fushimi sat there staring at Misaki, blinking like an idiot. If only Misaki could stay like that forever, looking at him like that for the rest of time then nothing else would matter and Fushimi suddenly wanted to get hit by a truck this time.

"Fine, try your luck," he said, crossing his arms.

"I won’t bother asking about Homra and all that stuff," Misaki waved him off.

"That’s a wise choice," Fushimi said condescendingly.

"Whatever," Misaki brought his legs under himself as he sat further up the chair. "Do you really hate me?"

"No," Fushimi said with a little difficulty, but then again it was kind of obvious and Misaki would have worked it out eventually considering the way they had been going on recently. "My turn, why’d you keep the photo?"

"Because it’s like literally the only time I’ve ever seen you actually smile, like I’ve got physical evidence that you’re capable of being happy," Misaki said like he had a treasure that no one else would ever hold.

-

Things weren’t quite easy, but they were as easy as they got between the two of them. Fear and self loathing tore them apart and brought them back together, small little confessions breathed out in the twilight that weren’t much to most people but after everything they meant for more.

Fushimi was being released and Misaki promised to leave him thousands of messages, Misaki swore to do whatever it took to hold them together.

Laid out in the bottom bunk, he checked his PDA and Misaki had been true to his word. A torrent of messages about nothing at all, just things that had entered Misaki’s mind. Fushimi smiled a small smile as he stared at the display in the darkness, writing back to every message.

Over the time it took Fushimi to recover, Misaki visited about once a week and he could tell that the other hated being in Scepter 4 just as much as he had hated being in Homra. Asked the other to come by more often as some sort of revenge, but Misaki never listened to that. And really he supposed that he owed Misaki something for without the other’s constant communication he would have been bored half to death.

And once he was recovered it was almost like old times, enough to make him feel sick.

They’d just eaten at a ramen bar and it was late in the evening, walking down the street side by side. Misaki was blabbering on about something that Fushimi didn’t really care about, but the other’s enthusiasm was infectious and the way Misaki was looking at him eyes wide with wonder. It was the kind of sight that had always made him give into the other and he just had to open his mouth.

"You’ve got no right to look at me like that," he said wistfully.

"Like what?" Misaki barked, scrunching up his face.

Fushimi shrugged it off, there was no point in going into it anyways. It wasn’t like he really understood what he was getting at either.

-

There was something growing it Yata, something large and warm. He felt it whenever he was near Saru, he put it down to the relief he felt. They weren’t the same and really how could they be, but it was something and Yata would cherish it dearly.

It was a lazy afternoon and they both had the day off, they were sat together on Yata’s tiny couch. It was small enough that no matter how they sat they would always be touching somehow, but the warmth of Saru pressed to his side wasn’t unpleasant and so he didn’t complain.

There was something buzzing at the back of his mind, an idea and a memory.

"Can you drive?" He asked suddenly.

"Hmm, why?" Saru asked eyeing him suspiciously.

"Well, we always meant to go on a road trip, even if it was only for a few days it’d still be awesome," Yata said, thinking of the open road and a small inn maybe even an onsen.

"Well, I can drive but I don’t have a car and it’s not like you could afford any of what’s filling your mind," Saru said, always the buzz kill.

"I-I could save up," Yata insisted, "and I’m sure we could borrow a car from someone or maybe rent a car."

"That’s more costs, Misaki," Saru characteristically clicked his tongue, "you’ll be saving up for years."

"Just you wait and see Saru, I can save up all kinds of money," Yata sat upright waving his finger at the other.

"If you say so," Saru said flippantly.

-

Yata did manage to scrape the money together by the skin of his teeth, had worked himself to the bone. It had taken him six months of nonstop working, but he had managed it waving the last pay check in Saru’s smug face.

All through out that time, he had been researching and creating a plan of what they might do. He thought he might as well do it since he’d be the navigator because he couldn’t drive, they’d be a team again. The thought brought a broad smile to his face.

They rented a car, some old sun dried thing. Saru had turned his nose up at it, but Yata said that it had character and Saru had looked at him as though he were brain dead. Yata just shrugged it off, at least he wasn’t a picky asshole.

"So are we taking the scenic route, Misaki?" Saru asked needlessly as he packed the bags into the trunk.

"Um, something like that, I booked us an overnight stay at this kickass onsen that wasn’t outrageously expensive," Yata said as he opened the car door.

"W-with your own money?" Saru said looking slightly stunned, the way the other was looking at him had Yata rubbed at the back of his head as a faint blush spread across his cheeks.

"Yes, with my own money, why’d you think it took so long?" He was feeling pressured by the way Saru was staring at him.

"Right," Saru said before ducking inside the car and Yata would sworn that the other’s cheeks were slightly pink.

Yata had put a whole lot of effort into that trip, maybe more effort than he was willing to admit. He’d even made a playlist to have on the road, he was endlessly thankful that Saru only raised a brow at him and said nothing when he put it on.

He had a map spread across his lap, traced his finger along it as they went, eyes out the window as he watched the world pass by.

-

Fushimi’s heart was light, it was soaring like a kite caught in the wind. He gripped the string in his hands with his knuckles white, pulse running desperately. He was stuck, he wanted to run but he also wanted to stay and watch the sun rise.

Misaki’s face was aflame and Fushimi sat in the water staring up at the other trying his best not to smirk, but then again a smirk didn’t fit the tone even if his glasses were steaming up.

"You know you’re supposed to take off the towel," he said perhaps a little too sharp.

"I-I know that Saru," Misaki said but continued to stand there.

"Look, it’s off season, it’s only you and me here and I’ve already seen everything you’ve got," he tried for sincerity, it was all true anyways.

"Could ya at least not look," Misaki said and suddenly Fushimi realised he was staring, he immediately turned his eyes to the water, watched the moon dance upon it.

"Sure," he mumbled uselessly.

He heard the towel drop and Misaki entered the water, when Fushimi looked up Misaki was sitting with his knees pressed to his chest.

"This was your idea, you know?" Fushimi raised a brow at the other.

"I know alright," Misaki barked.

And really it was all so endearing, he couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face. 

-

It was a little like when they used to live together, Misaki muttering to him in the darkness. Wistful nothingness and Fushimi felt so light that he was almost dizzy. He turned onto his side and found that wondrous smile staring back at him.

"Hey Saru, here gimme your hand," Misaki said reaching out and Fushimi let the other take his hand, Misaki pressed his palm to the other’s chest and Fushimi could feel Misaki’s heart beating, it was rapid. "I’m so happy," Misaki said stating what was already painted across that face, "I’m actually really glad that you got hit by a car," the other giggled to himself.

"Me too," he admitted. And then the mood changed without him knowing why.

"I really missed you," Misaki said, hand still wrapped around Fushimi’s.

"Hmm, I know," he said almost frowning at the other’s seriousness. 

"Heh, I guess it was just wishful thinking," Misaki released Fushimi and turned onto his back.

"What does that mean?" Fushimi asked with furrowed brows.

"It means that I thought over six months back together would be enough for you to admit at least some things to me, but I guess I was wrong," Misaki said, looking more irritated with himself than at Fushimi.

And that was how it had been since they’d become friends again, whenever Fushimi would close down, when he felt like Misaki was getting too close, the other would turn away and silently smoulder. He guessed that all those months of holding in that usually volatile anger was too much for Misaki. And somehow that hurt.

"But I’m not going to let you ruin this, I’ve already had an amazing time," Misaki smiled a little bitterly.

-

They drove home the next morning and Yata still felt the sting of that rejection, he didn’t know why he had needed to hear Saru say it because there was evidence enough. It was in the way that Saru stayed over his with increasingly flimsy excuses, it was in the way that Saru stayed stuck to him even when there was more than enough room, it was in the way that Saru even ate the vegetables in the food that Yata made, it was in the way that Saru would obediently roll up his sleeves after dinner, it was in the way that Saru had brought a second controller for Yata’s console, it was right there in every moment that they spent together. So why the hell had he suddenly needed verbal confirmation that night?

He guessed that it was nice to hear that someone had missed you like you had missed them, just the admittance that Saru agreed with his stupid joke had made his veins sing. He had felt the need to pull the other toward him so strongly that he couldn’t stop his mouth from moving. Sometimes he was a fucking mystery onto himself.

"This is the nostalgia playlist," Saru said, shaking his head.

"After so long, isn’t everything nostalgic between us?" Yata shrugged, scratching his chin.

"I suppose," Saru hummed.

“I suppose, and you talk about me being dense,” Yata surprised himself. It really came out of nowhere, that resentment was old and so was the wound but it hadn’t come easy recently.

"Guess the honey moon’s over, eh Misaki?" Saru turned toward him raising a brow.

"Fuck you Saru, at least I give a damn," but then again maybe Saru was right and maybe they’d been spending too much time together. Yata didn’t understand, neither himself or Saru at that moment.

"I’m here aren’t I? Isn’t that enough for you, your highness?" Saru spat and that face was familiar.

"No, it’s not going to be enough for forever, jeez Saru why is it so hard to admit the shit that I already fucking know?" He barked, snarling.

"What do you want from me because I am trying here, it might not meet your high standards but I am trying,” Saru said and Yata watched the other’s knuckles turn white over the steering wheel.

"Just give me something Saru, something to tell me that I’m not wasting my time, that there’s actually something between us to salvage," he said.

"Haven’t the past eight or so months meant anything?”

"Of course they do, but I would actually like to hear what you’re feeling or what you’re thinking sometimes," Yata said, tone turning softer. "You used to tell me shit, it might not have been a lot but it was enough to tell me how you felt," he said, fingers fiddling with the corners of the map.

"A lot has happened since then Misaki, you can’t just expect me to pour my heart out to you suddenly," Saru said, rationally. Stupid fucking logic road blocking him.

"I’m not asking you to tell me everything in one go, but when I say I missed you the least you could do was tell me the same when I know it’s true," his voice was dancing on the edge of desperate.

"Fine, I missed you, I missed you so fucking much that this stupid thing never healed," Saru pulled the collar of his sweatshirt down to reveal that ruined skin that Yata tried his best to keep his eyes away from it but that time they caught and the sight stung. "Every time I saw you all it did was hurt," Saru wasn’t watching the road.

"Okay, I get it just-"

"No you don’t get it Misaki, you don’t get it at all," Saru shouted and the sound was harsh and sharp.

"Alright, but seriously Saru-" Yata didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence.

The blare of a car horn drowned him out, Saru’s head snapped back to the road. The car swerved wildly and suddenly they were off the road, tumbling down the hillside and Yata spied water beneath them. He remembered the blue of the lake alongside the road on the map and he thought what such a useless thing to remember at that moment.

The car hit the water and it took a moment or two for Yata’s insides to stop moving, the car seemed buoyant but he knew that it wouldn’t last.

"Fuck," he spat, eyes wide and veins buzzing from the burst of adrenaline. Water was quickly spilling in, wrapping around his ankles. Then he remembered Saru, his eyes shot to his side, the other was conscious but barely. Blood trickled down Saru’s brow, that was when Yata really started to worry. "Saru?" He called, voice shrill. If Yata had any injuries of his own he was just too terrified to notice.

"Huh, Misaki?" Saru’s head lulled to the side.

"J-just unbuckle your seat belt, hurry," Yata said, his seatbelt already snapping back. Saru’s movements were far too slow, Yata leaned over and undid the buckle himself. "Now it’s just getting out of the car and swimming up," a memory slapped him in the face, "please tell me that you learnt how to swim," Yata winced already knowing the answer.

"No," Saru said faintly shaking his head.

"Fuck," he yelled again. "Just help me kick out the windshield and I’ll figure something out from there," the water was up to his hips then. Saru was slowly coming back to reality and Yata supposed that it was the dire state that they were in that sped things up. 

"Use your aura to blow it out," Saru said sharp and fast with his feet pressed against the glass.

"R-right," his red aura flowed around him, the glass splinter from the next kick and water flooded in. He grabbed Saru by the shoulder and took one last deep breath before the water went over his head, he blinked for a moment and then pulled Saru along with him through the windshield.

His lungs began to sting and his muscles burnt from the effort it took to pull another person toward the sun. They broke the surface, gasping for air with Saru clung to his side, but that was only half the battle. The shore was a distance away and Saru’s weight was dragging him down, but what else was there to do but swim?


	2. Chapter 2

Breathing heavy and soaked to the bone, Yata laid flat on his back eyes to the sky. Saru was right beside him, much the same way, and their hands were still joined. Somehow, Yata was afraid to let the other go as though if they weren’t touching Saru would disappear. His heart was still hammering away, body buzzing from the residue adrenaline, it was Saru laid out limp against the concrete again. And Saru clung to him just as strong as he to the other.

Something, something that wallowed in the pit of his heart, was begging to be said and Yata was deathly terrible at not speaking his mind or his heart, but this time it was undefined and formless so instead he said whatever came to mind.

“All that just because it pains you to verbally admit that you care about me,” he said with incredulous wonder.

“Yeah,” Saru expelled in a weak sigh.

“You’re unbelievable,” he said shaking his head, “do you ever get over anything?” Yata said, turning his head to look at Saru.

“Not really,” Saru said, somewhat wistfully.

“That’s pathetic,” Yata said, words almost garbled from the way he over-pronounced.

“It’s pathetic how you demand validation,” Saru shot back, sharply, fingers curling in Yata’s palm.

And really Yata couldn’t argue with that, he shivered sitting up and finally letting go of Saru to wrap his arms around himself.

“What are we going to do now?” He asked, looking out across the lake despondently. Saru did that irritating clicking noise and Yata looked down to find the other reaching out for his wrist. “What?”

“You’re watch’s waterproof, my PDA is not,” Saru stated, Yata’s eyes caught on the nasty gouge above Saru’s brow and trailed along the bruise that had spread there.

“Um yeah,” he said weakly holding out his arm for the other.

-

Saru, despite the obvious head injury, had sorted everything out and it just made Yata feel useless. He felt at least partially responsible and he felt as though he was letting Saru do everything, but his body ached and the chill really had set into his bones. Sat in the back of an ambulance with a blanket wrapped around him as the paramedic checked him over. Saru had just finished speaking with someone, Yata wasn’t quite sure who because there was the fire department, the police department, someone from highway safety and another person that he had no clue who they were or why they were there, but Saru was finished and was walking toward him.

“Right, you’re not going to like it, but I’ve called someone to pick us up,” Saru said evenly, business voice activated, “the fire department is going to help the police department pull the car from the lake and I’m gonna get written up and I’m probably going to lose my licence and I’m totally going to get fined,” he finished with a flat smile that reminded Yata of times from way back when Saru used to smile like that when it seemed like everything was on fire around him. “How are you?”

“How am I?” Yata yelled, brows shooting up. “What about you, there’s dried blood on your head,” he watched Saru put a hand to his forehead and smear the mess across that forehead.

“Oh,” Saru said staring at his fingers.

-

The ride was more than a little awkward, silently riding back to the city as Saru flatly replied to the questions of whichever blue it was that came to pick them up. Bandages wrapped around Saru’s head, plasters and bruises littered that too pale skin. All Yata wanted to do was crawl into his bed fall asleep, a deep sleep that would heal all the physical wounds and at least sooth the mental wounds a little.

They pulled up outside his apartment building and Yata said his thank you before getting out of the car, but Saru was getting out too. He stood on the sidewalk and blinked as Saru emerged, grimacing as he stood.

“W-what are you doing?” Yata asked, a little miffed.

“Just, let-” Saru began before stopping to sigh loudly, “let me come with you.”

-

Fushimi had a change of clothes with him and changed as he waited, awkwardly at the small breakfast table in Misaki’s apartment as the other got changed. Fingers over the tabletop, the place was surprisingly clean for a boy like Misaki, the outward deception of the little homemaker put a small smile on Fushimi’s face.

That part of Misaki was one of the many things that Fushimi was the only one who knew about it, he held those things like secret treasures in the palm of his hands.

Misaki appeared from the bedroom, looking sleepy and soft in the moonlight from the window. It was something gentle that plied Fushimi’s lips apart and drew words off of his tongue.

“I’m sorry,” Fushimi muttered.

“That’s too easy,” Misaki said, smile lazy, “sorry about what exactly?” He asked leaning against the doorframe, there was still so much distance between them.

“Well, for one crashing the car, you even tried to warn me but I wouldn’t listen,” Fushimi said, really even he knew he should apologise for at least that much. “And for not saying things,” he said awkwardly, fingers pulling on the end of his t-shirt.

“Um, thanks,” Misaki said, shuffling forward and bruises appeared on that skin as he moved into the light, it wasn’t an unfamiliar sight but for the first time in forever it took Fushimi aback.

Being the cause of such injuries once didn’t matter, for a while he had wanted to mark that flesh , but there in the twilight Fushimi’s heart ached at that sight.

“Oh, Misaki,” he said, cupping Misaki’s cheek with his slender hand, running his thumb over the bruise there.

“I-it’s alright,” Misaki said, blushing as he brushed Fushimi’s hand aside, “I’ve been through worse,” he said with a smile. And Fushimi knew the other had, but that didn’t stop the clutching of his heart, didn’t stop the dark swirl of self-loathing that coiled inside him.

“It’s not,” Fushimi said firmly, trying to rationalise the emotions turning inside him, “anything could have happened and it would have been my fa-”

He was cut off by Misaki’s hand striking his face, the noise of it was sharp enough to make him wince. Misaki stood breathing hard before him as he looked down at the other.

“Don’t you dare go off about all the horrible things that could have happened, we’re here and we’re safe,” Misaki said, hands clenched into fists at his sides. “It’s something to be thankful for,” he bit out.

Fushimi accepted that that was how Misaki saw things, saw the whole world but it wasn’t how things went in his head. He’d almost ruined everything and so he had to be held accountable, had to be punished for his stupidity.

“If I hadn’t crashed the car there’d be no need to be relieved or thankful for anything,” he said, tone as hard as stone.

“This, I hate this part of you,” Misaki yelled exasperated, “I’m tired Saru, I ache all over and I just want to get into bed,” he sighed heavily, brows upturned.

There were many things that lived and died in his mouth, ideas, urges and truths unspoken, but in the end he meekly bid the other goodnight before settling on the couch.

-

Body aching not just from his injuries, Fushimi awoke a few hours later bent up on the couch. He groaned as his head spun, stomach lurching from the way his vision blurred. He couldn’t sleep like that, he knew, but the alternative made things that he wanted to deny or ignore press against his consciousness.

Getting up and going over to the kitchenette for a glass of water was a struggle, body singing from too little rest. As he gulped the water down, he spied something that made him splutter.

Misaki’s bedroom door was open.

He mentally chastised himself, how was that a big deal? The boy lived alone so leaving a door open didn’t mean anything at all, but then again Misaki found practically everything embarrassing and liked his privacy. Fushimi’s mind span out of control, full of implications and doubt. Eventually he decided to throw caution to the wind and slowly slid into bed beside the other, it wasn’t like he could get back to sleep on the couch anyways. It was the logical answer, he rationalised.

-

Blinking awake slowly, Yata felt well rested and comfortably warm. The room was dark and he didn’t remember closing the curtains, but he guessed that it didn’t really matter. As he tried to sit up, the sheets pulled taught and Yata finally realised that he wasn’t alone in his bed. Yata looked down at the other side of the bed and there Saru lied, fast asleep.

For some reason, Yata felt the sudden need to swallow, eyes on those delicate long eyelashes. He’d hardly realised how soft they looked, he wondered how they’d feel fluttering over his skin, what an odd thought. That angular face and those sharp features appeared soft in the low gentle light, short puffs of breath crawled up his arm, he shivered.

Yata thought that when you really looked at Saru, _really_ looked, that the other was quite beautiful, stunning. Stunning was the word that came to Yata’s mind and he supposed that he’d always been stunned by Saru, taken completely by everything about the other.

He wanted to touch, really wanted to touch, the skin over his palm prickled from the way he ached to cup the other’s cheek. He decided for something safer and brushed away a stray strand of dark hair, curling it around his finger as he did so, it was tacky from sweat and not being cleaned. Surely, since he’d been in an accident the day before, he could allow himself a lie in Yata thought to himself.

Settling back down onto the mattress, he faced Saru, watched the other breathe steadily. He ran his eyes over Saru’s face, the other was slightly frowning, brows turned down, alabaster skin and slightly parted lips. Yata’s lips began to tingle, he imagined that it was the other’s warmth that drew him closer. Saru’s breath ghosted over his face and only made the tingling of his lips worse, and he was overcome with a need to put his mouth on the other’s. And he did, without thinking Yata gently pressed his lips to Saru’s.

Laying there, mouth to mouth with his complicated and sleeping friend, Yata’s heart began to hammer against his chest. He was kissing Saru, actually kissing someone, kissing his best friend, he pulled back and held his hands over his mouth. He felt like a pervert.

-

There was absolutely no way he’d have gotten back to sleep after that, he had to do something with all the nervous energy that was now running through his veins. He decided to make breakfast to busy his hands and hopefully to busy his mind, but he was adept in the kitchen, especially his own, and so it was an easy enough task that it hardly occupied his mind.

_Why?_

Why was the first thought, why on earth had he wanted to kiss Saru, why had he wanted to kiss Saru so much that he couldn’t even control himself.

_Because he looked so beautiful, his lips looked so soft and you just had to see if they were._

That wasn’t really the end of it though, that was just the surface, that was just the urge from that moment. Yata chewed the inside of his cheek as he worked at the stove, feeling rather uneasy with himself.

_Maybe, it’s because you like him._

It was an innocuous enough of a thought, but it sent Yata’s insides into turmoil because it sounded dangerously like the truth. 

-

Yata had fair warning before Saru entered the room, the rustling of the sheets and that tired drawn out groan, they sounded out like echoes from the past. Bed hair poking out around the bandage, Saru staggered out of the bedroom, t-shirt rumpled and caught further up the other’s body enough for Yata to spy Saru’s hipbone.

He dragged his eyes from the other’s skin and placed the plates upon the table, he tried his best not to blush and give away any hint that anything at all had happened. Nothing had happened, nothing at all, Yata deluded himself.

“Mornin’,” he said with a sunshine smile, and that made his face ache terribly.

Saru grumbled something in reply before snatching the coffee straight out of Yata’s hand, he watched the other practically inhale the liquid, maybe years ago this would have surprised him but right then Yata just added it to the long list of unhealthy quirks Saru had picked up without his guidance.

“Thirsty?” He said as he sat at the table, complimenting himself for his culinary skills as he bit into his food. “Is there a reason why I woke up with you in my bed or did that just happen?”

“Your couch is too small,” Saru murmured, sighing as he drained the very last drop from the mug.

“Yeah,” Yata said, eyeing it and then eyeing Saru. In the morning light, the bruises and abrasions on the other’s skin were far harsher than they had been in the soft light of his bedroom. Edges turned yellow and sickly, the glassy look to the other’s gaze and the paleness of Saru’s skin. Yata wondered just how awful he looked himself. 

-

They spent the day together lazily and unwilling to part, lounging on the couch and watching movies. The sun was dipping beneath the horizon before Fushimi remembered to change the dressing on his forehead, Misaki winced as he rummaged through the bathroom cupboard, the unit fitted just slightly too high for the shorter boy, but he wouldn’t allow Fushimi to lift a finger. Misaki was the kind to always refuse the help of others, but Fushimi couldn’t blame the other he was much the same way himself.

“Got it,” Misaki yelled with triumph, waving the first aid kit in the air.

Fushimi sat on the toilet lid and smiled weakly at the other, the little things lit up Misaki and he guessed that he could learn a thing or two about happiness from the other.

Misaki was gentle, almost achingly so, as he removed the sordid bandage from Fushimi’s head, sweat soaked and disgusting. The pad clung to Fushimi’s forehead and stung as Misaki tore it from him, he hissed and hissed some more when Misaki cleaned the wound.

“I still can’t believe that you crashed a car, mister logical rationality crashed a car over something so stupid,” Misaki muttered as he applied fresh dressing.

“It wasn’t stupid,” Fushimi said, quietly admitting that he had been at fault.

“Hmm?” Misaki hummed brows pinched together, “what do you mean?”

“I mean that what you were saying, it wasn’t stupid,” Fushimi managed with some effort, fingers gripping the edge of the toilet.

“Saru, you don’t-”

“I missed you, it’s what I should have said,” he cut Misaki off, “it’s a little too late I know but, I’m hoping you’ll forgive me,” Fushimi smiled softly up at the other.

He watched Misaki’s Adam’s apple bob as the other swallowed before the Misaki’s face broke into a wide smile.

“You don’t even have to ask.”

-

Neither of them mentioned Fushimi going back to the dorms, just the thought of walking down the dark streets alone when his head felt buoyant and every motion made it feel as though the liquids in his head splashed against his skull was enough to make his stomach churn. He surmised that it would be a bad idea and he really didn’t want to call anyone to come pick him up, having people help him was an idea that also made his stomach churn.

The night sprawled across the wood flooring, they laid limbs tangled with their backs braced against the couch and their fingers tapping against the buttons their respective controllers. Misaki’s head was braced against Fushimi’s shoulder, fluffy hair tickling his neck.

“Being apart was dull,” Fushimi muttered, hardly paying any attention to the game.

“Being apart was exhausting,” Misaki muttered back as he tapped the buttons in quick succession, chewing on the corner of his mouth.

Fushimi breathed for a moment, steadying himself for the words he’d been meaning to say since Misaki had set the table that morning. Blinking at the flickering screen, he both steeled and stole himself before he spoke.

“If things had been reversed that day, when I got hit by the car,” he clarified, “I doubt that I would have been so collected or as patient.”

“Saru, I surprised myself,” Misaki chewed the words out, haphazardly dropping syllables.

And again, Misaki had completely missed the point of what he had been trying to say.

“Misaki,” Fushimi sighed, “I meant that I’m grateful.”

The other’s controller hit the floor with a loud clatter and Fushimi had won both rounds despite not meaning to turn things into a competition again, but he smirked at Misaki all the same.

-

“Excuse me, but could you repeat that?” Fushimi asked, finger dug into his ear, as though he had misheard when he knew he hadn’t.

“W-well, the couch really isn’t even big enough for me, so you can sleep in my bed with me tonight,” Misaki stammered out, stopping to swallow, tongue slapping against the roof of his mouth. That blush like pollen dusting petals spread across his face, Fushimi felt the quiet nagging impulse to drag the other under the sheets and keep them there.

“Alright,” Fushimi smiled softly, lips twitching ever so slightly from the effort of not pushing Misaki’s body down. “Let’s go to bed.”

-

Bruises turned yellow in a matter of days, but that bandage stayed on Saru’s head for a few more weeks and Yata had never been more thankful for the existence of that ‘cold hearted woman.’ It had obviously been her that kept Saru from destroying himself, Yata had seen that stern care when he’d visited the other at the dorms.

He pushed Saru down onto the couch and he’d felt powerful and powerless to his own desire, he meant to check the other’s head but he desired that taste he’d had weeks ago. Somehow, he had no clue how, but somehow he managed not to give the slightest hint. That was unless Saru was keeping that up his sleeve just to hold against Yata later, but in the current state of their relationship he really doubted that.

Fingers around his wrists, Yata froze taken aback by the sudden realisation that he hadn’t actually died, Saru had just touched him somewhat intimately.

“I just changed the dressing before I came over,” Saru mumbled, he’d always been a mumbler, “you don’t need to check it every time you see me.”

Glacial eyes warmly staring up at Yata’s own, he had to swallow.

“It’s fine Misaki.”

His name on that sharp tongue, he wanted to press his fingers down against it.

“You’re not responsible for that, it’s on me.”

Saru had smiled, lips thin and wasn’t there some sort of old wives tale that said to never trust men with thin lips? Yata wasn’t sure, but he was sure that it really didn’t matter.

Yata was driving himself up the flipping wall, after he’d had the hardest time not kissing his best friend that second morning he decided to try his hardest to ignore the feeling growing inside him. There was so much still unsaid between them, the dust still hadn’t settled on the battlefield of that war that Saru had started, that war of cloak and daggers, smoke and mirrors and shadows that Yata had never really figured out. He knew that pushing Saru was not the way to get what he wanted, but Yata was a straightforward guy and he couldn’t do underhand or conceited especially when it came to the other. So he figured that if he didn’t know how to get the truth from Saru about the other’s motives, then he shouldn’t bothering even entertaining the idea of whatever it was that had bloomed inside him.

The sun was in Saru’s eyes, it glinted off of the other’s glasses and Yata decided to let it go, the wound and the thoughts plaguing his mind, just for that moment.

-

“There’s questions hiding underneath your tongue,” Saru said, poetry dancing on the other’s lips, as though Saru was better educated than Yata, and Yata guessed that in a way Saru was. “I keep wondering if they’re going to eat you alive or if they’re going to rip me apart.”

“I have no fucking idea what you mean by that monkey,” Yata frowned and Saru clicked that damned tongue and Yata raised his hand to smack some sense into the other.

“Alright Misaki,” Saru held his hands up and Yata stilled. “I mean that, sometimes you can try, I know what it means to you and I know that it’ll only sour things if you keep swallowing that poison.”

“What have you been reading?” Yata groaned with pinched brows, lips curled.

“I am saying that you can ask me about it Misaki, how much more clear do I have to get?”

“I got it you damned ape, but why on Earth are you spitting flowers?”

Saru had simply shrugged, sitting at the breakfast, obviously making space between them.

“Ask away.”

“What happens when you close up, huh? How am I supposed to deal with that? How am I supposed to-”

“I’m not going to take things out on you Misaki, we’ve moved past that and I, I’m not as scared anymore,” Saru cut Yata off from speaking and pacing, being so delicate with Yata.

And he hated it, he wasn’t a flower, he wasn’t fine china. Yata was blood and bone, an animal with a beating heart that needed rougher handling.

“I just simply don’t understand anything about what you did that day, not a damned thing,” he began, speaking slowly so that he could order his words. “I get it now that you’re happier with the blues, that that place suits you better but that’s only because I’ve seen you there. That blue king is a lot more your kind of guy than Mikoto-san ever was, and that guy gets you, but that’s the only thing I get. Everything else is a mystery to me,” he muttered the last sentence quietly, eyes on the currently sunless view through his window.

“And what is everything else?” Saru asked.

Yata dragged his eyes back to the other, Saru’s face was unreadable but the patience in that stare was more than enough to untie his tongue.

“Why you had to be so cruel, why you needed me to hate you, if it was just about leaving Homra and going to the blues then you could have just told me. Yeah sure I would have been upset, but you could have made me understand,” even the memory of that cruelty made Yata wince slightly, fingers aflame behind his eyelids.

“I wanted you to hate me because I believed that what we had was breaking or had at least cracked and if it could crack then it could shatter and if it could shatter then it wasn’t worth having.”

Surprisingly, only to himself, it was Yata that shut off. Sparks flying off of his skin, he couldn’t begin to imagine how the other could say those things so calmly.

Saru had left at his not so polite request.

-

There was no way of telling the story without tearing off his skin, there was no way of telling the story without tearing at that old wound in Misaki’s heart.

Fushimi watched his breath twist in the frigid night air, it wasn’t the worst result but it wasn’t the best either. He had told himself over and over that they couldn’t go anywhere without them moving away from his betrayal, if he didn’t confess to the other he was sure that Misaki would always look at him with those wounded desperate eyes, begging for him to have a human reaction.

Something heavy had settled in his chest, something that felt like phlegm clogging up the back of his throat. It was something that whispered to him, told him that if he didn’t give Misaki what he needed then Fushimi himself would never get what he wanted, whatever that was.

Later that night Misaki had messaged him, softer words after hours of thought, after a whole lot of reminiscing.

_I thought about it and I kinda guess that I can’t blame you for thinking like that sometimes, but its fucked up. I guess that it made sense in that twisted mind of yours, but you still haven’t apologised so I can’t forgive you._

Fushimi smiled at the message, fingers poised, he typed quickly.

_You do realise that in order for that to happen you have to see me again, I’m not talking about this over the phone._

Misaki sent back a time and place within minutes.

With Misaki hope was never lost.

-

Dusk settled over the park and Fushimi watched Misaki sprint in through the entrance, smiling faintly as the other panted with his hands on his knees.

“Sorry,” Misaki said breathing heavily as he stood up straight, “I got caught up at work.”

Fushimi only nodded in reply. Misaki stared at him, waiting for his breath to even out before speaking.

“I think I know where you got that destructive crap from, but Saru it was both of us there, I felt you slipping away just as much as whatever it was you felt and I tired, but you never called,” Misaki said, standing as firmly as he could and speaking as calmly as he could. Speaking of significant moments from the past that they hardly mentioned, stunning Fushimi for the moment.

“You’re right I never called,” Fushimi said weakly, “I got so far inside my own head because you weren’t looking at me.”

“But if you wanted to break it then you could have just acted indifferent towards me, instead of creating hatred,” Misaki muttered, face scrunching up as he spoke.

“I still wanted your attention, so if I couldn’t have your friendship I would have the opposite, your hatred,” Fushimi stated simply, he’d thought these words over and over, a carefully planned reply and reaction to every possible reaction Misaki could and would have to the things he had to say.

“You’re so childish,” Misaki said, exhausted, face pinched in not quite disbelief.

“Yeah,” Fushimi breathed.

“Is that it?” Misaki arched a brow, obviously showing that he didn’t believe that it was.

“It’s a large chunk of it,” Fushimi admitted, “but can we not crucify me tonight?”

“I’d never hurt you for feeling weak Saru,” Misaki said eyes aflame and words serious, “I’m not that kind of person.”

“I know, but watching the way my words hurt you feels like crucifixion,” Fushimi said, so pained his legs would have folded underneath him if he had given them the chance.

-

Misaki didn’t know that he was awake, this much was obvious from the way the other’s fingers carded through Fushimi’s hair. The sensation was almost enough to send him back to sleep, the affectionate motion telling him that he hadn’t yet pushed the other too far. 

Breathing in the soft scent the lifted from Misaki’s lap, he could have purred, could have nuzzled into the other’s warmth, but he didn’t.

He let the moment lie, sinking back into sleep.

-

Light spilled into the room and Yata hadn’t realised that he’d fallen asleep, he blinked slowly allowing wakefulness to come to him. The weight of Saru’s head in his lap make him feel grounded, hand already in those limp locks.

It wasn’t as though the mist that had clung to his ankles had completely disappeared, but Saru’s words had made it easier to breathe. Suddenly everything had tasted different and then the rest of the story didn’t really matter, clearly Saru was loyal to the blues, enough to wear that stuffy uniform. And after everything that had happened between them, it was blatantly obvious that Saru cared no matter how much the other spoke of indifference.

“Saru,” Yata mumbled, his voice broke. “Wake up.”

They’d worked through a whole lot of one of their issues, and the rest would take time, Yata knew that. Also, a new issue had arisen considering the way that he was captivated by Saru’s pale thin lips.

-

The lights buzzed neon and flickered in front of his eyes, the room was so oddly lit that Yata could only describe it as the brightest dark room he’d ever been in. Arcades really were odd places, all of these machines vying for your attention. Lately Yata’s attention had been almost exclusively devoted to Saruhiko, it wasn’t even the other being bratty or forlorn, it was just that he had become infatuated.

He was in the arcade mostly as something to do whilst everyone else was busy and even more because his hindsight had given him whiplash, he quickly realised that he’d pretty much always had romantic feelings for Saru in varying degrees.

Firstly and most forcefully when he first met the other, he followed the other and begged for Saru’s attention and approval intensely. That thought made his lips peel back from his teeth, it tasted bitter.

He pounded the buttons harder.

Then there was the transition into their fully formed friendship, living together, and Yata’s feelings turned to content because it was them against the world.

Remembering that time made him smile a little, it was probably the only pain free time between them.

And after that their ideologies split, took different paths. Yata had thought that they didn’t need to fight against the world, not all of it, they could let some of it in. Saru, on the other hand, held strong to his convictions and ingrained horrors.

Was it really so inconceivable that Saru would leave him with the way things had went combined with the other’s past, Yata chewed on the inside of his cheek. It was easy to point out the truth and its roots retroactively.

He tried his best to hold onto the music instead of the haughty sound of Saru’s past voice echoing between his ears. 

Then there had been that ache after Saru had left, he wouldn’t allow himself to think of the shattering and tearing that happened as Saru left, he had thought about both feelings enough already.

And now there was the clarity, crystal clear, the edges cut him like diamonds.

Yata was infatuated, tepidly intoxicated.

-

His heart hammered, cracking against the inside of his chest, Yata could hardly think over the sound of it. His skin felt electric whenever Saru was near, especially so when Saru was close enough to touch.

He had thought about it and thought about it again, his conclusions were gentle but enough to have his knees quivering. Obviously he cared greatly for Saru, he was interested in the other, he was attracted to the other. That last thought still heated Yata’s cheeks no matter how much he rationalised it.

Once he had collected his feelings and arranged them into a neat line, Yata thought about Saru’s feelings. That place that was as much of a double sided torture device as it was a delicate puzzle box, Yata wanted to stay away from that place enough so that the thought of another emotion fuelled argument made him shudder. Then again, he wanted to shake some emotion out of Saru like loose change.

If Saru did have the same feelings for him as he had for the other, the bastard would _never_ say so. And that was the thought that kept Yata up at night.

-

“It’s not, I mean I’m still mad at you but I think I’m always going to feel crappy about what happened,” Yata said, it was getting real cold and the cicadas had stopped their incessant noise.

“It’s always going to be there, nothing I can do about that,” Saru shrugged.

“Except making up for it with your actions now,” Yata stared up at the other, both hopefully and challengingly.

“Expectations,” Saru muttered, breath curling in the air in front of him.

“Am I not allowed to expect things from you?” Yata turned to the other, anger ready to spike just under his skin. “You have expectations of me,” he accused.

“Everyone has expectations of everyone else,” Saru stated, rubbing his hands together. Yata grabbed him by the elbow, bringing them to a stop.

“I’m not talking about everyone, I’m talking about you,” He said with that steadfast conviction. Saru sighed and really Yata almost punched him.

“What is it you want from me, Misaki,” Saru muttered, “just so I’m 100% clear on what roll I’m playing.”

“Fuck you, seriously, I’m just asking you to be my friend and not some narcissistic psychopathic piece shit just because you don’t want to be told how to act, stop being so fucking childish, it’s pathetic,” Yata spat, chest heaving. His eyes stung as well as his chest, he couldn’t control those emotions just as much as he couldn’t control his anger. He turned heel and ran, spitefully ran back to Homra where he knew Saru would not step.

Yata sat at the edge of the bar, with a glass of orange juice, pretending that he wasn’t crying over something that would have just made him angry before. And he knew why it upset him differently than before, he wanted Saru to like him the way he liked the other, he wanted Saru to change, which was so dumb and exactly what Saru had criticised him for.

Really, he was infatuated with the boy he knew, the aloof, emotionally stunted and hateful boy he’d known for years. He knew though, knew better than anyone that Saru was hiding, pretending that he hated everything and enjoyed nothing, but he caught those small smiles and looks of enjoyment often enough to doubt the other’s facade.

He was being an idiot and he knew it, but he just couldn’t help the way he felt so strongly about Saru.

-

Misaki wasn’t answering his phone and he wasn’t in his apartment, he didn’t have work that day either so there was only one other place that he could possibly be.

Fushimi slammed his head against Misaki’s apartment door, smart move really, it was the last place he’d want to go on Earth, mostly from the sheer amount of embarrassment and guilt and the useless way everyone else would react to his being there.

Then again, Misaki had been crying or at least been about to cry as he left. Fushimi stood and tapped his knuckle against the wood, he’d upset the other again when he didn’t want to just because he was being juvenile again.

What had been going through his head and what had been coming out of his mouth were two completely different things.

When he’d said that the pain between them was always going to be there, he’d thought about smoothing it over and healing Misaki. When he’d said expectations, he’d wanted to promise that he’d do everything in his power that he could so that Misaki would never get hurt again. And he’d wanted to reach out and grab Misaki, wanted to drag the other into his embrace and tell Misaki that things would be different, wanted to say that he wasn’t just playing a roll anymore, wanted to wipe those tears from the other’s eyes.

He hadn’t done those things though, he wasn’t sure how express those kinds of emotions outside of himself. Fushimi showed emotion in the little things, he wasn’t able to just come out and say the things he felt when he’d just started feeling them.

If he meant the things he thought then he’d better do something to them to the other, if Misaki was really that important to him then showing his face at Homra would be a good way to show the other how much he cared without saying all the sappy things that swirled around in his head. Fushimi tapped his fist against the door one last time for luck before he left.


	3. Chapter 3

Yata sat fingers wrapped around the ice tea that was now more water than tea, other hand sliding over the sticky wood of the bar. He chewed hard on the inside of his cheek, he began to rap his fingers against the bar.

“I’m getting flashbacks,” Kusanagi muttered to himself and Yata didn’t quite hear it.

“Huh?” Yata said half-heartedly, not even looking up at the other.

“What happened this time?” Kusanagi asked softly, wiping down the bar.

“What do mean?” Yata asked sharply, sounding almost offended.

“You know what I mean, you’re only ever like this when Fushimi-kun is involved, so what did he do this time?” Kusanagi said, leaving Yata no wriggle room, nowhere to run.

“Uh,” Yata mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck as he went slightly red, “just being the same old Saruhiko, I should have known better,” he shrugged.

“But it’s different now right, you’re friends again,” Kusanagi replied.

“I suppose,” Yata murmured, taking a sip of his iced tea.

Kusanagi just stared down at him with a pointed brow, Yata tried to not look at the other whilst he swallowed.

“What?” Yata whined, he just couldn’t stand the way Kusanagi looking at him like that.

“Nothing.”

-

Fushimi marched down the street with purpose, he didn’t quite know what he was going to say. Maybe just humbly saying that he was sorry, which meant mumbling it and asking to go home, would be enough to get Misaki to talk to him privately. Then again he still wasn’t all that good at talking things through with the other, that stubbornness was never going to leave either of them.

He sighed, rubbing his hands together, the air was still brisk and it was only getting colder as the night grew closer. The sky was growing dark and he didn’t want to be out all night, he had work the next day.

The Homra building was suddenly looming over him, he stopped dead in his tracks, it really did take him by surprise. The doors were the same, the sign was the same, he didn’t know why but he had expected the building to be different somehow. He had expected it to change with him, but then again he hadn’t actually changed all that much either.

Heart pounding away, he took both steps in one stride and opened the doors, hoping to get things over with as fast as possible. He had expected the whole gang to be there, though it was a Tuesday evening and people wouldn’t be getting off of work for another hour or so. In the bar was the usual skeleton crew: Anna, Kusanagi-san, Chitose and Misaki.

“Hey,” Fushimi said to no one else but Misaki, he wasn’t ready to let the old world back in.

“H-hi,” Misaki said, voice breaking with surprise.

“Can we talk, you know, not so publicly,” Fushimi muttered ungraciously, he was trying he really was but just standing there was giving him a headache.

“Sure,” Misaki said slowly, jumping down from the bar stool and if they’d both been in the mood Fushimi would have said something about that.

“Night boys,” Kusanagi-san called, smirking around his cigarette.

“Good night,” Misaki mumbled and Fushimi just muttered something unintelligible under his breath.

-

Yata couldn’t deny that this was what he had been hoping for since Saru had left, had been hoping for this for years, but then again he had banked on the other not showing up just so he could wallow in his self pity.

Then Saru came, Saru had stepped through the door kinda awkwardly and it had completely stunned Yata. They were outside and it didn’t take long for him to realise that they were walking in the direction of his apartment, the air was chilly and Yata pulled on his hoodie.

“So er,” Yata cleared his throat, why was it always so damned awkward between them, “did you actually want to talk to me?” He tilted his head up toward the other.

“I’m sorry,” Saru mumbled, pouting as he spoke.

Yata froze, almost doing a double take, those sorts of words were falling from the other’s mouth more and more often.

“What?!” He barked, he didn’t mean to but he hadn’t expected it to be so easy.

“Eh, you don’t believe me?” Saru said, almost smirking.

“No, I-sort of,” Yata mumbled, scratching the back of his neck and another thing happened that he didn’t expect. Saru laughed, really laughed, that noise that Yata used to yearn to hear but had since forgotten the sound of. It made him feel empty.

“I guess I deserve that,” Saru said, smiling fondly down at Yata. “I was being an idiot and pushing you away, I suppose I really am still scared,” he said, sounding irritated with himself.

It hurt to look at the other like that, Yata thought, it reminded him of the Saru from middle school. The Saru that would constantly whine about everything but stuck by him, stuck to him like glue. Back then they were stuck together, held together so strong that Yata couldn’t imagine any force that could tear them apart. And Saru had, the other had torn them apart and it hurt so much. Even remembering it hurt, like his skin was peeling away, even then with Saru right there in front of him it hurt worse than ever.

“Let’s go home,” Yata muttered with urgency, grabbing the other’s sleeve and stormed down the streets.

-

Silence fell over them and Fushimi couldn’t think of a single thing to say, not from the way that Misaki had spoken. The other’s tone was hoarse and serious, as though Misaki was about to cry, that tell tale faintly broken sound.

He tried not to focus on it, tried not to worry too much, they’d speak about it when they got to Misaki’s apartment. Instead he looked up at the sky, the night’s sky twinkling away behind the thin clouds. He thought about how it should start snowing soon, Misaki would need a coat. Fushimi almost laughed to himself, it all came back to Misaki, one way or another his thoughts always spun back around to the other.

Almost as though they were destined to, he really did laugh to himself that time.

“What’s funny?” Misaki muttered, still not looking at him.

“It’s just you,” Fushimi smiled, really smiled, it made his face hurt.

“What does that mean?” Misaki said, lip curling as he finally looked up at the other.

“Nothing,” Fushimi shook his head, not that he could even explain it himself.

-

Stood in his apartment, he’d never felt less at home in his actual home. Yata felt out of place with the way his heart was beating, but he figured that it was then or freaking never. Heart hammering away in his chest, it had been the fear, the fear born from Saru actually being there, that had brought it on.

The fact that Saru had come to find him, come to the one place he knew Saru really did not want to go, it made Yata think that there might be a time that Saru wouldn’t come. He’d once been so completely sure that nothing could separate them and he’d been so wrong, so why wouldn’t it happen again?

Eh, he knew it was a stupid way to think, knew that thinking like that would make it hard for them to get closer. Yata knew that the only thing that could stop them from falling apart again was them, they just had to work together.

The other had been sat on the couch, watching him pace as he collected his thoughts. Yata knew that it was going to take more than just thinking for what he wanted to say to come across to Saru.

“We-we have to work together,” he started out, standing firmly in front of the other.

“I thought we were?” Saru said, looking mighty guarded and Yata figured that it was his fault since he’d turned the mood all serious and foreboding.

“No, I mean, we have to tell each other stuff, work through things and all that stuff that we both freaking hate because if we don’t then I-I just don’t see this lasting all too long before we get irritated with each other,” Yata tried to explain, arms moving more wildly than he’d meant them to.

“Don’t we always irritate each other?” Saru asked, humour creeping into his voice.

“Take me seriously for once asshole,” Yata growled and Saru smiled, really that was foul play in Yata’s books.

“I have been, Misaki, isn’t this us doing that?”

Yata stood there, frozen again, because Saru was right, again.

“Oh,” Yata mumbled looking at his sock covered feet.

-

It was adorable, Fushimi hated to admit, but Misaki’s intensity was endearing and made the other blind to so many things going on around them. 

“I said something stupid and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t going to say something stupid again,” Fushimi admitted, “you know that as well as I do, but I’m trying and I’m always going to be trying because I don’t know if I can stand losing you again,” he continued carefully watching the way that Misaki was looking at him, silence drew out between them and he tried not to listen to the constant creeping doubt that lurked within him.

“I know I can’t,” Misaki said, dropping down onto the couch beside Fushimi.

“I’ll do better I promise,” he said, but he didn’t look at Misaki at all as he said and wondered where the giddiness he’d felt earlier had gone.

-

It was snowing, Yata hated it, walking through town with Saru and it didn’t feel the same. They weren’t laughing at each other anymore and Yata had a feeling that he knew why, there was something begging to be said something on the tip of his tongue and it was that keeping them apart. Still they stayed together, half heartedly keeping conversation going.

Obviously they both wanted everything to stay the same, wanted their friendship to sit there in stasis, unmoving and unchanging. Yata knew that he felt far too strongly about Saru to keep this going at the same pace as it had been, just maybe Saru was feeling the same.

He held the camera awkwardly in his gloved hands, extremely nervous about the question he was about to ask. Though, it seemed that nothing would change between them if he didn’t do it himself.

“Saru,” Yata called, making the other turn toward him and he held the camera up and took a photo without asking. The whole time his heart was jumping up into his throat, he figured that the quality of the picture would be poor considering the way that he was shaking.

-

He didn’t like being alone anymore, Fushimi often found his mind wandering, drifting off to places that he really didn’t want it to. The doubt, the awful self-doubt and self-loathing that he often turned outward, he was well acquainted with it and he had his ways of dealing with it. Though, his way of dealing with it was to be around other people and find that they wouldn’t turn him away instantly, not that he really believed it and that was the most irritating part.

But when he was feeling those things about Misaki he usually just went and found the other or at least texted something irritating to Misaki, at that moment though he couldn’t think of anything mean to say, nothing even slightly teasing came to mind.

Staring up at the spider-web cracks in the ceiling he thought that at least they didn’t change, but as he thought about it he figured that eventually they’d have to. The worst part was that he didn’t really know what had to change but he could feel that something was and he knew that if he didn’t adapt to this change, if he didn’t face it head on then he’d lose Misaki once and for all.

The only thing he could think was how much he wanted to keep Misaki as close as possible and for as long as possible.

-

Saru was staring out the window, Christmas had come and past like the view outside the train, still Yata felt kind of on edge. He knew he was falling, sinking deeper and deeper the more he stayed by Saru’s side. He couldn’t help it though, he wouldn’t tear himself from the other’s side, unable to imagine being that kind of lonely again. He couldn’t say it, couldn’t bear to even bring the words to the bottom of his throat.

He considered himself a coward for that.

The scenery outside was covered in snow, a blanket of pure whiteness that hid all the ugliness of the world. Nothing could still the turmoil the tore through Yata’s mind though, he sat there silently as he felt the heavy presence of Saru sat next to him. It had been so long since his revelation, months, the new year was swiftly come upon them and he still hadn’t muttered even a hint of his affections.

They arrived at their destination far quicker than Yata had expected, the silence between them had pulled him out of time and reality and pushed him so far inside his own head. He really didn’t like the introspection, hated running in circles inside his head, it was irritating and it never went anywhere.

“Well, c'mon Saru,” Yata announced, dragged Saru by the wrist out onto the station.

He was definitely hesitant to let go and when he looked up at Saru, snowflakes were scattered upon the other’s head. Their colour complimented Saru’s pale skin and dark hair, it made him blush but at least he could pretend that it was the cold biting into his skin.

Before Yata moved to remove his hand from Saru, the other slid their hand down to wrap around his own. Yata tried not to make a sudden movement or even make a big deal about it at all, he just kept moving and hoped that the darkening night would hide his growing embarrassment. He couldn’t figure why, he didn’t want to consider any of the things that could so drastically change their relationship.

The shrine was packed, like they usually were during this time, the pair of them lined up to make a wish. When Yata had asked Saru to come he’d had to beg, saying that he wanted to do the stupidly cliched thing at least once in his life and you couldn’t knock something until you tried it. Saru had agreed to come with an exaggerated sigh, somehow though, now walking beside the other Yata was sure that Saru was enjoying himself.

He watched Saru make his wish first before approaching to make his own, he prayed for the courage to confess to Saru since he was almost certain that Saru had prayed for something close to them always being by each other’s side, it was just the other’s nature.

-

They were separated by a mere meter, sleeping in separate futons, Fushimi watched Misaki sleep as the sun threatened to break over the horizon. This was equilibrium at least to him, this heated feeling in his chest, that contented warmth swept through him in that growing light. It left a gentle smile upon his face, if it could always be like this.

He stopped himself there, the world was so much wider now. Did he really want to confine himself to a small room again, did he really want the entire world to simply consist of himself and Misaki for forever more? No, he didn’t and he really couldn’t.

He hadn’t wished for that the night before, he’d wished for the courage to tell Misaki what he’d always meant to tell the other. The words easily danced upon his tongue during these times, it was easy to say things, the honest things that he kept deep in his heart, when there was no one listening.

Reaching his hand out from under the blankets to brush the hair that had fallen into Misaki’s eyes, the cold air bit into his skin but the sensation didn’t stop him. Misaki’s face was warm and he couldn’t bring himself to pull away from the other, but the cold sunk deep into his arm and it was uncomfortable. He clicked his tongue at that, really, even the weather was against him and his semi-romantic gestures.

He stood and pulled their futons next to each other, sinking back down under the blankets he pressed his body as close to Misaki’s as possible and closed his eyes again. He couldn’t stand it anymore, denying the things that lived in his heart and swirled in his head, he’d denied them from the moment he’d met Misaki.

At least now he could admit it to himself, if only quietly saying it inside his mind to himself.

He was hopeless taken by Misaki.

-

Rolling onto his side, Yata came face to face with Saru and that just reminded him of the only time he’d kissed the other. Despite the blush, he smirked at that thought, he’d kissed Saru and the other didn’t know about it at all.

“What’re you smirking about?” Saru grumbled, cracking an eye open.

Those sharp blues shot through the low light of the early morning and it gave Yata a start, he stammered scrambling backward.

“N-nothing,” he barked.

“As usual then,” Saru smiled as he spoke, teeth slightly shining from under those thin lips.

The other stretched out, back arching off the futon and Yata couldn’t tear his eyes from Saru’s body. That long slender form that drove him up the fucking walls, that luminescent pale skin that had constantly haunted him since middle school without him really realising it.

“I don’t want to get out of bed,” Saru mumbled, snuggling into the blankets, like his body was coiling.

“Not when it’s so cold,” Yata agreed, “but we have to leave eventually,” he said.

“I know,” Saru said, staring up at Yata from under his long eyelashes which were slightly hidden by the long strands of hair that fell over Saru’s face.

Yata would have sworn that his heart had actually stopped or maybe time had stopped or maybe he died for a moment and that moment was playing on loop. He didn’t know, but he was sure he was just falling more in love with the other.

-

They ate breakfast on the train, rice triangles and oolong tea, Fushimi didn’t make a fuss about there being no meat, it wasn’t like there was much of a choice in a train station. He watched Misaki watch the world fly by, the silence wasn’t unpleasant. Really it was horribly comforting, enough to make him smile all lopsided like an idiot.

“I’m sorry that my presence is less interesting than the snow,” he commented with a sly and self satisfied smirk.

Misaki’s head snapped toward him then, eyes wide as always and seemingly sparkling if Fushimi could trust his own eyes. He wasn’t exactly sure about that, seeing things through rose coloured glasses was not something that Fushimi considered himself capable of. Then again Misaki had always had him surprising himself, surprising himself in ways he could have never fathomed before those moments and when those moments were over he just couldn’t consider anything else.

“What do you want to talk about Saru?” Misaki asked, tilting his head like a puppy.

And the things that crawled up into the bottom of his throat were not things to talk about on a relatively packed train journey, he sat there silently staring at the other trying to think of anything else to talk about.

“What did you wish for?” Fushimi found himself asking, he’d said the words without thinking but he was genuinely interested in the answer, even if the answer was a lie.

“You’re not supposed to tell people what you wish for,” Misaki muttered.

“That’s not true and people mostly pray for really mundane things like help with exams or money or a promotion, I bet you wished for something dirty didn’t you Misaki?” Fushimi let the smirk spread wide across his face at that, really trying to be creepy.

Misaki poked his tongue out and pressed his finger under his eye at Fushimi.

“Not telling,” Misaki sounded adamant.

“What if it comes true, will you tell me then?” Fushimi asked.

“Only if you tell me about yours,” Misaki said, shoving the rice into his mouth, puffing his cheeks out as he ate.

“Of course,” Fushimi agreed figuring that his wish would never happen.

-

There was something about midnight that had Yata sitting up stock still recently, most especially when Saru was there. Sat there he watched the moon light dance across the other’s delicate skin, there in the night laid vulnerable against the mattress Saru’s skin seemed paper like and thin.

At that moment and ever since new year’s Yata had considered himself even more of a coward. It’d been months, now in the first week of April, and he hadn’t come any closer.

Every time he thought about confessing to Saru, every time that he went to say those words to the other, he cowed easily and swallowed everything deep down inside.

He considered something, maybe just saying the words when Saru couldn’t hear him would build up that bravery. Maybe muttering to the other in the darkness would ease the nerves that stole his voice, he hoped at least.

“I love you,” he murmured low and as quiet as he could, staring intently down at Saru, watching for any signs of wakefulness from the other.

Hearing himself say those words out loud filled him with determination, the words just sounded right coming out of his mouth aimed at Saru.

It really was true and he couldn’t fathom why he had thought that they wouldn’t be true anymore when he spoke them, he giggled at himself for the silliness of that fear.

“I really love you Saru,” he said again, firmer this time and he smiled broadly as he said it. And his heart filled with light, that was what it felt like, filled with light so bright that he wouldn’t be able to see anything else ever again when he looked at it. He suddenly wanted to scream it, needed to have Saru listen to him and watch as those words sunk in.

Yata felt dizzy from it all, it was such a strong sensation that it rocked right through his entire being. Saying the words made him so happy and he thought that maybe it wouldn’t matter if Saru didn’t love him back, he loved the other so much that it wouldn’t matter at all as long as he could stay by Saru’s side.

-

“I really really really do love you Saru, this feeling, it fills me up until there’s no more room inside me and it spills out all the time. I love you,” Misaki was muttering into the night again, but this time it really mattered and the moment the words actually sunk in Fushimi’s eye shot open. Looking up at the other, he wondered if he was dreaming, wondered if this was some really sick joke that the world was playing on him.

Those thoughts didn’t reach his body though, that moved of its own accord. Rising up from the blankets which slid down his body, he leaned toward Misaki and kissed the other so easily it felt like he’d been born to do it. Misaki went stiff for a moment before flying into a flurry of action, fingers sliding into Fushimi’s hair, mouth opening and closing against his own and an arm draped over his shoulder. It didn’t last long enough, but he had to pull away to get the words out for Misaki to hear them.

“I think I love you too,” he said, words muttered against the other’s skin and Misaki punched his chest.

“Don’t skimp out on me Saru, I’ve always been pouring my heart out for you,” Misaki berated softly, pulling away enough to really look at Fushimi’s hazy eyes.

“I love you too, you’re all I think about and you make me so selfish, you shouldn’t spoil me so much Misaki,” Fushimi was close to whining, the flood gates hadn’t risen they’d burst and he was suddenly unable to hold himself back. And Misaki laughed lightly at that, giggling flightily and he couldn’t help but kiss up the other’s neck.

“Since when?” Misaki asked, smiling from the very core of himself and to Fushimi the other had never looked more beautiful.

“Since always,” he muttered, trying to push Misaki down flat upon the futon.

“That’s bullshit,” Misaki returned, pushing Fushimi off of him. “C'mon Saru talk to me for a minute,” he urged and Fushimi sighed sitting back.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, really considering his answer, “for a long time, but I guess I was in denial about it for a long time, I mean I did a lot of stupid things because I didn’t know that I loved you,” and the words felt odd on his tongue, they felt too easy to say.

“Yeah, well they do say that love makes people stupid,” Misaki commented.

“Oh no, I should leave, you might become brain dead if you fall for me anymore Misaki,” Fushimi struggled to get all the words out through his growing laughter and he wondered how long it had been since he’d done that.

“You know Saru, I love it when you laugh like that, it’s possibly the dumbest sound I’ve ever heard,” Misaki said, hiding his mouth with a hand held in front of it.

“So what about you huh? Since when have you been in love with me?” Fushimi asked, eyes sparkling with intrigue.

-

Yata could hardly believe that everything that turned out so well, it had been so easy and painless.

“I’m pretty sure that it was like a constant thing, you know like quicksand, you just slowly sink into it,” he mumbled, fiddling with the blankets.

Saru looked captivated, like Yata was the only thing in the whole world and although he liked that for a time, he didn’t want to be the other’s entire universe.

“We’re not alone anymore Saru, you know,” he said softly.

“I know, but I still want a place for just us,” Saru returned.

The other was taking everything so well, Yata considered that that was what love was or how it made you. None of that old petty stuff mattered as long as they were together, especially when they were together.

“Hey,” Saru called after a moment, “did your wish come true, Misaki?” He asked with a firm and cheeky smile.

“M-maybe,” Yata murmured, adverting his eyes.

“Ah c'mon Misaki don’t get shy so suddenly,” Saru came closer toward Yata, head leaning on the other’s shoulder.

“Yeah, my wish did come true,” Yata admitted quietly, blushing again.

“So now you have to tell me what it was,” Saru announced smirking.

“I wished for the courage to confess to you,” Yata said and it felt like he was going all gooey on the inside, it was like he was surrounded by a gentle warmth.

“Heh, me too,” Saru returned.

“Really!” Yata squawked, arms flailing, “ugh I’ve been agonising about this for months,” he said lightly punching Saru’s arm. 

“Sorry,” Saru muttered, obviously not really meaning it. “So, how was your first kiss Misaki? Did I blow your mind?” He asked all sultry and close to Yata’s ear.

“Yeah,” Yata drew out, laughing awkwardly, “about that.”

“What?” Saru asked, brow arched pointedly.

“I might have kissed you when you were asleep maybe,” Yata stammered out, hiding his face behind his hands. Leaving a crack between his fingers, so he could spy at the other.

“Oh, Misaki,” Saru chided, “you took advantage of me whilst I was sleeping,” he said, acting hurt.

“Ugh, drop it Saru!”

-

It was awkward at first, them being together, really together, as a couple. Well, the pair of them were just awkward in general anyways, this just made it worse.

They slowly came together, noses bumping and teeth clashing almost every time. Misaki would snicker and wave it off, but Fushimi would get frustrated with himself and his inability to make this all go smoothly.

Arms around the other’s waist and Misaki had climbed into his lap, a knee braced between his legs. Hands cupping the other’s face, which made it easier to control the angle, softly touching his lip to Misaki’s. It was a hell of a feeling, kissing the other felt like he’d been thirsting for hundreds of years for Miaski’s lips, when they touched it felt like an eternity forced into a second.

Small but rough fingers in his hair and he never wanted them to stray, if he could he would have stayed like this forever. Every so often he’d considered the idea that maybe he’d died, maybe the car crash had killed him and he’d been stuck in purgatory ever since, a sweet kind of punishment. he surely did not deserve heaven, of that he was certain.

“Boyfriend,” Misaki murmured against the corner of Fushimi’s mouth, it was becoming his new favourite word.

Fushimi smiled at that, eyes fluttering open to watch the faint blush crawl across the other’s face.

“Mine,” Fushimi said, holding Misaki closer to him, the sound was more to comfort himself than to inform the other, he was still struggling to convince himself that all this was real.

-

Everyone at Homra didn’t seem the least bit surprised when he told them the news, heck Kusanagi had said that he’d already known. Maybe that woman had told the other, but it didn’t seem right since Saru wasn’t the kind to announce this sort of stuff, no matter how happy he was.

It was pretty embarrassing to find that the thing he’d been agonising over for months was so obvious to everyone else, but that just seemed to be how things were. You can’t see everything when you’re in the centre of a situation, it was impossible. And after everything they’d been through no one could blame Yata for feeling apprehensive in his decisions, it was just the side effects of what Saru had done to him. What the pair of them had done to each other.

He was proud though, as proud as he’d ever been, he kind of wanted to scream it from rooftops. Always the kind to wear everything on his sleeve, but he wouldn’t knowing the way Saru would react.

Smiling as he rolled down the streets on his skateboard, headphones on without a care in the world. He couldn’t have been happier, rolling past a smear of blue and an arm shot out to wrap around his waist. Pulling Yata off of his skateboard and he watched it stop against the outer wall of a building, he looked up to find Saru smiling down at him saying something that he couldn’t hear.

“What?” He asked, pushing his headphones back down to his neck.

“Ignoring me Misaki? I’m hurt,” Saru said, not letting go of Yata.

“Ugh, no and jeez you really could have hurt me,” Yata said, struggling out of the other’s hold.

“As if,” Saru said rolling his eyes, “have lunch with me,” he said and Yata followed.

-

Somehow, everyone had known the instant he walked back into work after their confessions, everyone had known and the whole day Fushimi had wondered if there was something on his face or something equally as irritating.

Eventually and gradually his colleagues came to congratulate him, saying that it was about damned time that he and Misaki got together. After a while Fushimi wondered if he was dreaming, having a nightmare maybe, what on earth was there to congratulate him about anyways? He’d been dense, so mind numbingly dense that it had taken literal years for him to get to a point where he could possibly figure out his own feelings. He hadn’t though, it had all been Misaki’s doing, brave and courageous Misaki who wasn’t afraid of Fushimi in the slightest. The other had practically dragged the emotion kicking and screaming out of him, there wouldn’t be even the slightest glimmer of them without Misaki.

He was fairly ashamed by that.

-

“Camping?” Yata asked incredulously, mouth twisted.

“Yes camping Misaki, lots of people do it,” Saru had drawled, walking through the entrance to the camping store with the other in tow.

“Look Saru, it’s a great idea,” Yata said, chasing Saru’s heels, “an idea I didn’t think you’d be interested in,” he muttered mostly under his breath, “but my bank account is still suffering from our last outing.”

“That was almost a year ago,” Saru said, that realisation hit both of them pretty hard, neither of them had expected this to last as long as it had and especially didn’t expect it to evolve into what it had. They stared at each other for a moment, an incredibly awkward moment.

“Y-yeah, well you know I don’t make a lot of money and there was the trip we took for new years as well and I’ve sort of been trying to save up a-”

“Who said you had to pay for anything anyways?” Saru cut Yata off, staring down at the other hard.

“U-um, Saru I don’t really think that’s, I don’t know about that,” Yata muttered and it didn’t really make sense, but he was sure that Saru would get his meaning.

“I owe it to you so shut up and help me pick out a tent alright?” Saru said firmly, leaving no space for wriggle room.

“Alright,” Yata said feeling kind of cowed.

“Just let me spoil you for once,” Saru said earnestly and that made Yata melt.

-

Misaki had remarked in awe that someone had allowed Fushimi to borrow their car, he kept the slight shameful begging he’d done for it close to his chest. This all stupidly meant a lot to him, he wanted to make everything up to Misaki and he certainly could not do it with words, so he figured he’d do it with actions.

The past few months since they’d become an item had been a kind of foggy bliss, Fushimi knew that would pass but he wasn’t especially nervous about it. Now he knew that things changed and grew beyond his control and there was really nothing to worry about as long as Misaki continued to hold them together, the other had an uncanny ability to bring the best out of him. It seemed only natural since Misaki had also brought the absolute worst out of him too.

He really did it owe to the other.

They left the car in the park’s car park, took their packs from the car and entered it. There were many designated areas in the park for people to make camp, which they decided they should do first. Walking through the forest side by side, sticking to the path, he watched the way that Misaki’s face lit up with wonder at every sign of life.

It was so endearing that Fushimi just couldn’t keep the smile from his face, everything was just so beautiful that day. And when that old fear started to pull at his spine, he reached out for Misaki’s hand and the other held his firmly.

-

Saru wouldn’t let him lift a single finger to help the other put the tent up and really Yata was pretty bored, but it was kind of funny to watch Saru grumble at the instruction with a bendy metal pole in his hand.

“Need a hand sweetheart?” Yata asked, feeling kind of full of himself from the way that Saru had gone to such lengths for him.

“No,” Saru replied sharply.

“You know, I want to help Saru and as fun as sitting here watching you fumbling around is, I’d much rather actually be doing something,” Yata said and Saru sighed, looking pretty defeated.

“Help me,” Saru whined quietly and Yata stifled a giggle. Together they put the tent up in less than ten minutes, much to the other’s disdain.

After that they worked on the fire, which amounted to Yata sorting the wood and igniting it with his red aura.

“How convenient,” Saru muttered and Yata had smirked back at the other.

“Us reds come in handy every once in a while,” he threw back and Saru had snorted at that.

It was nice, really really nice, this easy comfort between the two of them where they could openly tease each other without it ending in a fight. This contented air between them that forced smiles across their faces and had them leaning against each other despite the fact that the fire was warm enough for the pair of them.

Hand in hand as they awkwardly cooked over the open fire, watching the flames flicker and crackle things tumbled through Yata’s mind. Months ago he would have called their relationship an uphill struggle, now thinking of their whole lives, he considered that maybe they had to have that space between them in order for them to get here. If he’d confessed back before they’d joined Homra, he could see the pair of them either dead or genuinely hating each other at this point. They’d had to grow and separately for this thing between them to mature and blossom properly, for once Yata was glad that Saru had destroyed everything back then in that alleyway, but he’d never say it out loud.

-

They kept the tent door open as they sat cross legged inside it, facing each other and telling stories. Not ghost stories, Misaki wouldn’t have been able to sleep at all, but then again maybe Misaki would want to get in Fushimi’s sleeping bag with him if he did. He smirked to himself.

“Don’t you dare start with the ghost stories Saru, I know that damned smile,” Misaki warned, cute and wide eyed.

“I was thinking that if you got scared you might want to sleep in my bag with me,” Fushimi said, smirking still.

“You’re so lewd,” Misaki groaned.

“We’ve slept in the same bed together a whole lot and you’re calling that lewd?” Fushimi pointed out, bow arched at the other.

“It’s different,” Misaki said, pouting ever so slightly.

“There’s no difference,” Fushimi said flatly.

“Shut up,” Misaki said stubbornly, folding his arms.

Fushimi crawled into the other’s lap then, tipping Misaki’s chin to kiss the other. Misaki sighed against his lips, breath sweeping over his skin and he shivered.

“What if someone sees?” Misaki murmured.

“Who? The owls?” Fushimi said, laughter on his voice as spoke.

They didn’t sleep in the same sleeping bag, there really wasn’t any room, but they lied as close together as possible. Tent door closed, Fushimi watched the fire flicker faintly through the fabric as Misaki’s breath tickled his cheek.

-

The next day they hiked down to a river and Saru was very incessant that they follow it, which they did, Yata didn’t have any complaints about that. He liked to watch the fish swim alongside them, the water rushed faster than he could keep pace with and in the opposite direction to the way they were walking.

Saru kept a hold of him, fingers laced between them, it made his heart swell. The other still got on his nerves, that was never going to change, but he loved the way they were together. A gentle but honest balance, the small heart that beat at the centre of their wider worlds, it sat where their worlds collided and he would always meet the other at that crossroads.

The sun shone starkly through the trees, turning the greens vibrant and lively. The colours were so bright it was overwhelming, it was so beautiful and Yata figured that Saru fitted in with the general aesthetic. The bright and bold colours illuminated the other’s fair skin and really brought the pink out in Saru’s cheeks, the sharpness of the sunlight made the other’s pale blue eyes sparkle. Yata found himself quite stricken by the sight of Saru alone.

“You know, you’re just so damned pretty,” he spluttered out, blushing as he spoke.

And Saru laughed, body shuddering with the effort to suppress it.

“Aw, Misaki you’re very cute,” Saru said, squeezing Yata’s hand and for once Yata didn’t kick off about it.

-

At the beginning of the small river was a sort of lake that was surrounded by trees, the sun light danced upon the surface of the water beautifully. Honestly this whole thing couldn’t have gone better if Fushimi had planned it, he’d known that the lake was there but he’d only seen it on the map and that didn’t account for how stunning the area actually was. He’d struck gold.

“Do you wanna go swimming Misaki?” He asked looking down at the other and their hands were still entwined between them, Misaki looked up at him with wide eyes burning like the sun.

“I didn’t bring my trunks or anything,” Misaki said.

“Neither did I,” Fushimi returned, smiling.

“What if-”

“There’s no one here, we haven’t seen a single person, c'mon,” Fushimi said, “wouldn’t it be romantic?”

“Ugh, fine but you have to go first,” Misaki grumbled.

“How about we do it at the same time,” Fushimi offered and Misaki simply nodded his head.

It was kind of an odd time for him to be realising it, but Fushimi thought about how this was going to be the first time that he saw the other naked since they’d become a thing. That thought got his heart racing, blood rushing to his face. He tried not to watch Misaki undress, but he felt the other’s eyes upon his skin.

Standing now completely naked with their clothes bundled at their feet, he looked at Misaki then and the other looked at him. They took each other in and Fushimi was certain that his heart was about to explode, he felt overwhelmed at the sight of Misaki. Misaki was small and breath taking, gently tanned expanses of skin and orange hair wild like flickering flames.

Fushimi dropped himself in the water before he could do something stupid, something like throwing Misaki on the ground and climbing atop the other. The cold water took all those thoughts from him, shocked his system. Misaki followed right behind, yelling expletives at the coldness.

-

If Yata thought Saru was beautiful with his clothes on, then he had no words to describe how amazing the other looked without them. He wrapped his arms around Saru, getting as close to the other as possible in order to share warmth.

“Being this cold is not romantic,” he said, shivering as he spoke.

“Ah, but the cold made you get close to me, isn’t sharing warmth romantic?” Saru threw back, kissing Yata’s face. “Plus, we’re close enough for me to be able to feel all of you,” he said, shifting a leg between Yata’s.

Yata tipped his head up to press his mouth fully to Saru’s, the other tasted cool and slightly bitter like a spring breeze. He ran his hands all over Saru’s body as the other explored his own, brushing down Saru’s long back, over sharp shoulder blades and then his fingers ran over the place they hadn’t spoken about since Saru had been hit by a car.

His rough fingertips found that marred skin over the other’s collarbone without meaning to but it was about damned time that they did, Yata pulled away from Saru slightly, enough to look down at the scarred flesh. There was no mark, since it had been lifted when Anna became king, and it had healed very poorly.

“I used to scratch at it whenever I thought about you,” Saru said quietly, “I know that’s kind of pathetic but that was how much I had deluded myself,” he said with a weak and weary smile.

Yata didn’t say anything to that, nothing he could have said would change anything, it would still be there. Instead he dipped his head down and pressed a kiss to that ruined skin. 

“It doesn’t matter anymore, we’re together now,” Yata said, staring straight into the other’s eyes, levelling a firm but warm gaze at Saru.

-

That kindness would eventually be the death of him, Fushimi thought, it’d be the death of the pair of them. Lip locked and clinging to each other like nothing could ever tear them apart again, he slipped a hand between them and took the pair of them in hand swallowing Misaki’s gasp.

“Is it ever too cold for you to be excited?” Fushimi asked, curling his lips at the other.

“I make my own heat,” Misaki growled, lips pulled back over teeth and that only sent a flush straight through Fushimi’s body.

Making quiet noises of pleasure against each other’s skin, they spilled into the lake together.

They dressed and went straight to camp to warm up by the fire, smiling broadly all the way back. Fushimi couldn’t get over how stunning Misaki was when the other gripped him harshly, quivering all the while.

-

That night, Yata silently stripped out of his clothes in the tent and watched as Saru did the same, copying him. The slow crawl toward the other felt like an eternity since he’d been wanting to do this before they started dinner, hands on Saru’s legs as he pushed the other down. And he kissed up the inside of Saru’s thigh as the other watched him intently, fingers slipping into his mouth.

“I’m surprised that you know what you’re doing,” Saru admitted, spreading his legs wide for Yata to crawl between.

“I thought about you a lot before we got together and now that we are together I think about you even more,” Yata stated, staring Saru down with hungry eyes as he slid his finger between the other’s legs.

“Ok,” Saru murmured, leaning on his elbows as he relaxed into Yata’s touch.

He watched Saru unfold, slowly coming apart like wet origami. Chest stuttering up and down as broken moans tore quietly out of the other’s mouth, it was captivating.

The sounds of them joining together filled the air and became a part of the forest’s night symphony.

-

They packed up and left the next morning, Fushimi felt pretty stiff and that glued a smug smile to Misaki’s face for the rest of the morning.

“You weren’t that good,” he drawled.

“How would you know?” Misaki asked, tilting his head knowingly.

“Shut up,” Fushimi groaned, climbing into the car.

“Try not to crash this time,” Misaki smirked, settling into his seat.

Driving home, Fushimi turned the radio on and tried to focus on the road, but even when he wasn’t looking at Misaki his mind was full of the other. He thought about their future and how he wanted that to be for as long as they could possibly, the thought filled him with a dogged kind of determination.

“Let’s move in together,” Fushimi suggested.

“Again?” Misaki asked, brow arched.

“Yeah again,” Fushimi said firmly.

“Sure,” Misaki said easily, “we’ve come so far,” he said smiling fondly.

“And there’s so much further to go,” Fushimi smiled, lips curling upward cat like.

He figured that that was a good place to end the conversation, all romantic and hopeful like they were beginning a brand new adventure. When he reached for the gearstick he grabbed Misaki’s thigh instead, the other turned to him laughing uncontrollably and he laughed back. And in that moment that they shared that missed the joining of the sun and the moon, the light around them dimmed and they basked in the soft light from the eclipse.


End file.
